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SIX DAYS 


BY 

ELINOR GLYN 

AUTHOR OF “MAN AND MAID”, “THREE WEEKS”, ETC. 





PHILADELPHIA fcf LONDON 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
1923 



COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 


PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY 
AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA, U, S. A. 



MIC 22 ’23 


CU711S53 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAOB 

I. The Mission...,. 7 

II. The Introduction ... t . 16 

III. The Huntress ..i... 23 

IV^ Fascination ...... 3d 

V. 39 

VI. “ I Love Him, That’s All ! ” .».... 49 

VII. Six Days’ Leave ...... 69 

VIII. At the Embassy Ball. 66 

IX. “You’re Mine eor Today”. 76 













CHAPTER X. 


ON THE BATTLEFIELDS 

“ Notice the immense dignity and sense of propor¬ 
tion in this architecture.” David said, as they looked 
up at the noble facade of the Beauvais Town Hall, 
standing there like a great aristocrat among its humbler 
neighbours in the square. 

“ They never put too much decoration or anything 
which does not mean something.” 

“ Yes, it is nice.” 

“ That is what we lack as a nation—a sense of 
values. We don’t get half what we ought to out of the 
things which we’ve got which are splendid, better than 
anywhere else in the world, and we run round to pay 
fabulous prices for bunk.” 

“ You think the French have a sense of propor¬ 
tion then ? ” 

“ Do you mean in art? ” 

‘* Yes—everything. ’ ’ 

“ In art they had in the dix-huitieme century as 
exquisite as the Greeks, but no nation has that sort of 
sense now. We are too commercial. It is the same 
with everything—commercialism has spoilt the sense 
of proportion in the whole civilised humanity.” 

Laline was not accustomed to talking upon such 
subjects. Her conversations with men had been more 
or less entirely upon a flirtatious plane. It had been 
the fashion of her set to take up this or that poet’s 
works, or that author’s, for a day or two, and then drop 
them again, but no real interest had ever been encour¬ 
aged in anything but new ways to kill time. 

86 


SIX DAYS 


87 


She looked up at David Lamont now, and wondered 
what it would be like to live with a man like that 
always? How her whole point of view about life and 
its meaning would alter. 

Her father had died a year or so ago, and before 
that she had been brought up in a very narrow circle, 
in absolute luxury, but with no intellectual atmosphere. 
Then since she had gone to live with her aunt in 
Washington things had changed, but they went to New 
York and Palm Beach most of the time, and had never 
really been in the Diplomatic swim. 

There are all sorts of sets in Washington, and the 
one that Laline knew only cared for killing time. 

Now she suddenly saw a man of her own nation 
who was certainly above her in cultivation and mental¬ 
ity. Her self-confidence received a shock. But with 
that marvellous quality of adaptiveness which all Amer¬ 
ican women possess she resolved to turn herself into 
the kind of person he would evidently like. 

“ I suppose that woman he danced with knew how 
to talk upon every subject!” she reflected. “ Well, 
so shall I—soon! ” 

When they got into the car again she was very 
silent —they had gone a couple of miles before 
either spoke. 

“ I’ve a feeling I want to stay over here a long 
time,” she announced at last. “ It’s got atmosphere/’ 

“Of course it has. Just think of the hundreds 
of years of tradition that are hanging around every¬ 
thing. Why, you’re bound to feel different. But just 
think of the wonderful chance we have in our country 
to create our atmosphere as we like. We need not have 
any of their old prejudices to hamper us.’’ 

“I suppose we are too much in a hurry to think 
about it, and so we have no mark.’’ 


88 


SIX DAYS 


“ That’s It! Everyone is in a hurry; but it is be¬ 
cause we have so much energy; we want to get on— 
get somewhere.” 

“ What do you do in life? ” Her voice had a note 
of timidity in it. She had a sort of feeling that Major 
Lamont would not answer anything that he did not 
want to. 

“ I do what I must part of the time, but soon I hope 
I shall be free to do what I can ” 

He was abstract again, when she wanted con¬ 
crete information. 

“ Are you going to stay long on this side ? ” She 
was determined now to find out. 

He turned and looked down at her. The quaint 
tenaciousness of women amused him. 

“ Just as long as I want,” he said; and she saw 
the whimsical smile in his eye, and it angered her. She 
had that feeling that she was losing ground and not 
attracting him as much as she felt that she had been 
doing some while back. And with every fresh uncer¬ 
tainty about him she fell more and more in love 
with him. 

She thought of this. She was “ falling in love.” 
And then she wondered why it was called “ falling,” 
and she said aloud: 

“ You seem to know everything, Major Lamont. 
Tell me why when people rather like one another is it 
called ‘ falling in love,’ just as though they had tripped 
up over an obstacle and tumbled into a morass.” 

“ I should say for once the verbal description is the 
correct ticket. It’s a headlong kind of thing, and often 
a descent. People in love have lost their balance and 
sense of perspective, so they ‘ fall ’ into the wretched 
state. They don’t walk in, that would imply volition, 



SIX DAYS 


89 


but* falling ’ indicates that they can’t help themselves! n 
He did not look at her. 

“ Why do you say ‘ wretched state? ’ I’ve always 
been told it is the only real bliss on earth.” And she 
raised soft grey eyes upon him, and a thrill went 
through him, and he turned to her: 

“It is an intoxication of the senses—love—just 
something a little higher than the animal’s mating, 
because we put glamour into it, but otherwise it is much 
the same.” 

“ How horrible! I am sure there must be some 
other kind.” 

“ I’m not sure. Not in these days. You’ve often 
thought yourself in love, expect?” 

“No, I have not!”—indignantly. “Lots of men 
have loved me—but I don’t feel a bit attracted.” 

A look came into David’s eyes. 

“ There ;has never been an occasion When you 
have—when a man has kissed you?—Never? ” 

Her cheeks became a bright pink and her eyes 
flashed between the curly lashes. 

“ Yes—I’ve felt curious.” 

“ Well, that is better than nothing.” Then he went 
on reflectively: “ There have been cases of real love, 
of course. There was a certain French scientist and 
his wife—they married when quite young. She was 
about twenty, but, of course, no other man had ever 
kissed her. He was older and they were poor. So 
they had all the disillusioning uglies to face. They had 
a number of children in struggle and poverty, they 
attained success and fame, and they loved passionately 
all through and to the end, so that he died of grief 
an hour after she passed away, when they were old. 
One of their sons was a Minister in France during 
the War. But, of course, love was sacred to them. 


90 


SIX DAYS 


Not a thing to sip at and sample from many lips. No 
modern much-caressed girl could give that devotion.” 
There was an unconscious tone of contempt in his voice. 
It scalded Laline. She fired up: 

“ Because no modern man is worth it.” 

“ That may be so, but in things of the spirit it is 
the woman who should lead. Most of them make you 
think that they are pretty cheap.” 

Laline burned with resentment and confusion and 
humiliation—all emotions she was unaccustomed to, 
and had never had to suffer through any man before. 

“You are saying that because you think me-” 

He interrupted. 

“ I was talking in the abstract, but your charming 
sex always applies a man’s abstract remarks personally.” 

“ Because if he had good taste he would not make 
abstract remarks that could have a reflective bearing 
upon some circumstance which he knew of concerning 
the girl he was talking to! ” 

David was startled! This was the truth, the logical 
truth, uttered by this adorable baby whom he had not 
considered to have any reasoning power! The little 
darling! The smile grew all over his cynical face. 

“You are quite right. I am corrected, and I 
apologise for my bad taste. But not to be obscure 
any more, I don’t think you are cheap. I only think 
you are the result of our social system, and you are an 
‘ American beauty,’ not a red Provence rose which 
grows in a sheltered garden.” 

“ Perhaps we are all the same underneath.” 

“ Perhaps you are.” 

After this they were more amicable. Laline’s intelli¬ 
gence, which was awakening, told her that it would be 
much wiser not to go on quarrelling all the time or 
having sparring matches, because it was difficult for 


SIX DAYS 


91 


her to come off best, and she preferred to stick to a 
type of conversation where she knew that she could 
be attractive. 

Thus, by the time that they had reached Amiens, 
David was saying to himself that he was sorry he had 
told her he would not kiss her again until she asked 
him, because he was beginning to have an insane desire 
to kiss her all the time. 

It must be his business to make her ask him. So 
he became gentle and tender and considerate, and, as 
they drew up at the door of the Hotel du Rhin, Laline 
was throbbing with delicious emotion. 

They found that the rooms had been telegraphed for 
by Fergusson, and they were expected. 

Laline discovered hers on the first floor. It looked 
out on to the garden and the monster plane tree—the 
usually ugly French provincial hotel room, with a buff 
and mustard-striped paper on the wall. 

When she glanced at herself in the mirror over the 
mantelpiece she saw her own shining eyes and her 
glowing cheeks, and she wondered what was the differ¬ 
ence in them, for there was a difference in her 
whole expression! 

Every woman who has been, or is, very much in 
love knows exactly how Laline was feeling!—the pecu¬ 
liar waves of emotion that seem to chase one another 
over the whole being. 

Meanwhile, Major Lamont, below in the restaurant, 
was ordering the luncheon. He was a past master 
at this sort of thing. He instinctively guessed what 
Laline might like, and everything was ready for her, 
the Sauterne was on ice and the hors d’ceuvres were 
waiting. He sauntered into the hall where the staircase 
was and met her coming down the steps. 

“ The waiters will think we are a honeymoon couple, 


SIX DAYS 


and so they’ll be awfully sympathetic,” he laughed. 
“ But so we are—for to-day! ” 

They were so gay! Laline, now that he was kind 
and nice to her, blossomed forth into wonderful sweet¬ 
ness, and David began to look forward to the 
afternoon when they should be alone again in the 
open country. 

Suddenly her eye caught sight of the shabby door 
filled with bullet holes near them, and she jumped up 
and read the brass plate where is inscribed in French 
and English: 

“ This door remains as a souvenir from the bom¬ 
bardment in April, 1918.” 

“ It does seem wonderful,” she exclaimed, “ to 
think that only three years ago people sitting here like 
us could have been killed by those shots! ” 

“Of course, it is awfully difficult for anyone who 
has not seen France to realise the War.” 

Her face became reflective. She was thinking, if 
she had known him then and loved him as she did now, 
how agonising her anxiety would have been to realise 
he was in this constant danger. 

Each was thinking of the other. He was saying 
to himself that in his whole life, in no country, had he 
ever seen so pretty a girl as Laline—one more delectable, 
more adorable. Yes; when he came back he must teach 
her to love—really to love. 

And she was musing that no man she had met 
before had this something which David had. Magne¬ 
tism, was it? And how perfectly he was dressed in 
those grey English flannels—and what nice hands he 
had—and she even rather liked the strong blue mark 
where he shaved! He did not look namby-pamby— 
and, oh! there was nothing brotherly about him! Then 
she thought of all the young men who were “ crazy ” 


SIX DAYS 


93 


over her. Why, in comparison to Major Lamont they 
did not amount to thirty cents! Would she ever really 
be able to make him love her and want to marry her ? 
Would he go on playing all the time? 

The element of uncertainty in this speculation added 
to the zest of her determination that he should feel as 
she felt. 

Their lunch was so gay. 

David made her hurry over it. Supposing Mrs. 
Greening and the rest of the party had caught the 
twelve o’clock train instead of the 3.50. They might 
be arriving upon them and in some way spoil their 
afternoon. So he was anxious for them to be safely 
off again before this could possibly occur. 

It was one of the most glorious days of the whole 
year, not a cloud, and the air fresh and warm and balmy. 

Laline was soon tucked in again, and they were 
rolling along out of the town, past the descent to the 
station, and so on to the road which would bring them 
to Albert. 

“ Everything is so green now,” David said. “ It 
is hard for you to realise what this looked like when 
we were here, but soon we shall come to parts where 
you can still see the wretched burnt stumps of trees.” 

He told her stories of fights and adventure, and 
when they passed the first cemetery and saw all the 
crosses a look of soft tenderness came into Laline’s eyes. 

“ It is all perfectly awful,” she said; and presently, 
“ Why, there is an English name—‘ Oxford Street ’! 
How funny that sounds! ” 

“ The English Tommies loved putting up their pet 
names on things. You’ll see ‘ Downing Street ’ further 
on. There used to be heaps of dug-outs on this*road 
after we pass Pont Noyelle, but I am awfully afraid 
everything has been filled in, and we shall have to go 


94 


SIX DAYS 


right off the main track if we want to see anything.” 

Laline did not care where they went so long as she 
was with him. 

Then gradually they came into signs of destruction 
and the poor, miserable little shelters which had been 
erected among the battered homes. 

And as 'they came to one heap of barbed wire and 
old iron: 

“ Why, there is a bedstead,” Laline cried. “ Look! 
You know, that makes me feel the reality of all the 
horror more than anything else! ” 

David’s face was grave now. Every step contained 
memories for him. And so through ruined villages and 
pathetic stumps of trees, half'hidden in the young, fresh 
green, they came at last to Albert, and saw the ruin of 
the church where the Virgin and Child had hung out 
for so long until finally destroyed by the advance 
in 1918. 

“ Oh! And to think that I laughed and danced 
through it all, and only played at War work! Of 
course, of course, we never understood.” 

“ That’s it!” said David, and there was a mist 
in his eyes. “ Dear France! ” 


CHAPTER XL 


THE DUG-OUTS 

They did not get out of the car, and soon they were 
on the main road again. 

“We must come back here with the rest to-morrow, 
but I just wish to get you to my own little corner, in 
case Jack might want to show it to you also. I must 
be the first.” 

Laline glanced up at him slyly. 

“ In everything? ” 

“Yes, in everything that’s good. First with the 
person I love and first in my work.” 

“ How I wonder who is the person you love? ” 

David’s voice was thoughtful. 

“ Do you know, I have been wondering that 
lately, too?” 

“ She would have to be a meek, spiritless thing.” 

“ Oh, no, she would not; but she’d have to be worth 
while in character, and not just pretty trash.” 

“ Do you often meet people who are not just pretty 
trash?” Laline pouted. Her sense of insecurity was 
coming uppermost again. 

“ No, frankly I don’t, and if I do they are generally 
married to another fellow.” 

“ I suppose you’ve seen a great deal of the world? ” 

“ Probably.” 

“ That must be nice.” 

“ When you travel, honey, you’ve got to learn 
things. Lots of us are so darned contented with our¬ 
selves we won’t take hints from what we see, and just 
come back with a mass of facts and not what the French 

95 


96 


SIX DAYS 


call * nuances.’ We have not learned the meaning of 
things, so to speak. Our country did not start in with 
the others, so had an immense advantage, as it needed 
only to acquire what is the best of all the old ones. 
We have a lot of horse-sense to teach them, but they 
have a lot of the sense of the fitness of things to teach 
us, and it’s our attitude which prevents our learning 
fast enough. We get a chip on our shoulder the minute 
the faintest imputation of criticism comes into any re¬ 
mark foreigners make, whereas they are quite indiffer¬ 
ent to anything we say of them.” 

Laline rather tossed her head. She personally was 
still provincial enough to hate criticism. 

“ I never come to Europe without thinking of the 
magnificent chance America has in the world scheme 
of things. And that is what I want to do presently— 
help to make us all see that we have got to do our utmost 
to raise the flag, and make all other nations respect 
our characters, because they are convinced they deserve 
respect, not because we tell them we’ll knock them on 
the nose if they don’t give it to us.” 

Laline looked at him—his jet black eyes flashing 
with enthusiasm, his finely-cut face like some old 
Roman coin. A feeling of adoration swept her. Oh, 
how wonderful to have such a man to love her—and, 
yes, teach her to be vast and not paltry by his side! 

Suddenly she felt how mean and small her aims had 
been with him. Just to attract him so that he should 
be bound in the usual chains men were in regard to her. 
A conquest for her own vanity! 

But love was clearing her vision. David appealed 
to something in her soul. 

He filled her now with the desire to raise herself to 
be noble—to be worthy of him. 

And this, when you remember that she was a beauti- 


SIX DAYS 


97 


ful American heiress, whose sub-conscious mind had 
been always saturated with belief in her own omni¬ 
potence and perfection. Does it not show plainly what 
miracles true love can accomplish? 

To be worthy of a man—one of her own nation, too, 
whom she had been brought up to believe were only 
born into the world to minister to women’s needs ^nd 
work for their welfare. 

If anyone had told her a year before that there was 
a male on earth whom she would not feel the superior 
of she would have laughed scornfully. 

David was quite unconcerned about what anyone 
thought of him. His whole force was concentrated 
upon earning his own self-respect. 

He was brought back to a consciousness of her by 
her little hand, which touched his arm, and, looking 
down, he saw a small flower of a face, and two soft 
grey eyes peeping up at him with a new expression 
in them. 

A wave of emotion swept through him. He clasped 
the hand, and drew it to his lips, and kissed it. 

“ Dear little honey,” he said. “ This is in homage, 
not what you call my ‘ usual insolence.’ ” 

“ No, but it is possessive, all the same.” 

“ Well, don’t you belong to me—for to-day? ” 

“ I suppose—so-.” Thrills were running 

through Laline. “ Belonging ” implied so many 
divine things. 

As soon as contact with the loved ones, as they held 
hands, set all the marvellous electric currents in motion, 
the mental began to decrease in importance, swamped 
by the strong desire to be in his arms. She was but a 
woman, after all! 

It was too early in the day, so David held himself 
and resisted temptation, and they swung on out of the 

7 



98 SIX DAYS 

town, and on into the terribly gaunt country to 
the north. 

Here, village after village was passed in more or 
less miserable condition, but with greater distances 
between them, as the country grew more destroyed. 
The evidences of mending the few stones that remained 
of existing houses showed, and there were numbers of 
new shelters, huts of wood or cement, pathetic touches 
everywhere of the spirit to re-eonquer fortune. 

A mile or two after they had crossed the iron 
girder bridge, where the old one was blown up, David 
stopped. They had come to a tiny group of houses 
rather off the main road, with the usual cafe of boards, 
cheek by jowl with complete destruction. Far away 
to the left, but in front of them, a vast country of 
devastation met their view. In 1921 it had not been 
all tilled, and deep shell-holes and skeleton trees could 
still be seen in many places. 

“ In case we are hungry, do let us buy some choco¬ 
late at that little cafe. I meant to bring some, and I 
want to see the inside of one of these queer sheds/’ 
Laline said. 

So they got out of the car and entered the door. 
A dear old French peasant kept it, who welcomed them 
with the usual graciousness of his class. 

“Chocolate? Mais, oui, certainement.” A comely 
daughter made her appearance, a girl of fifteen or six¬ 
teen, whose souvenir of the War was not so tragic as 
her elders. She admired Laline greatly. 

“ Belle comme un ange,” she said afterwards. 

Were there any dug-outs left, to his knowledge? 
David asked of the old man. 

Not just here, but some miles further on towards 
Gommecourt, if you struck north, it might be. They 
were stay-at-home people, and did not wander far. 


SIX DAYS 


99 


Contentment and cheerfulness was in this wretched 
place. Laline was deeply struck by it. 

“ They are just as satisfied as if it were all as it 
was,” she said, as they got into the car and Went on, 
with their packet of chocolate safely in David’s 
coat pocket. 

“ That is the immortal spirit of France. ' They were 
like that all through; they never grumbled. ‘ C’est 
la guerre,’ they said. Great philosophers.” 

The road now led through miserable country, the 
young, fresh green making the contrast of the deso¬ 
lation more pronounced. 

“ I feel we are getting near where I want,” David 
announced gladly, and they struck into a side track and 
went on. Black sticks, which had been woods, cutting 
sharply against the skyline, everywhere, told their tale. 

“ You can’t think what this was with not a living 
thing left,” he said. “ The ground too full of chemicals 
from the exploded shells even to produce weeds, as it 
was beaten up by fresh explosions every day.” 

“ It must have been terrible.” 

When the road became a mere track and then ceased 
altogether, and the broken corner of what might have 
been a church wall met their view, they had to halt. 
They were now miles from any human habitation, even 
the merest board hut. 

A battered iron crucifix hung obliquely from a bent 
iron pole— all that was left of what had been a shrine. 
And before it, when they could see behind the corner, 
there knelt an old priest in shabby cassock, with his 
hands uplifted to the sun, which shone down upon the 
just and the unjust of the earth. 

David took off his cap, and spoke in French: 

“ Reverend father,” he said. " Can you inform me 


SIX DAYS 


100 

are, we near a village, which was afterwards wiped 
out, called ‘ Etticourt ’ ? ” 

The old man turned to them and looked at them 
rather dazedly for a moment. 

“ You are standing upon part of the outlying ruins 
of it now,” he answered. “ This was my church—that 
heap of stones over by that trench.” 

His mild and saintly eyes gazed at J:hem benevo¬ 
lently, and he pointed to the north. They talked to 
him for a while. 

Yes; the famous German dug-outs were but a quar¬ 
ter of a mile from here across the fields. No; they 
had not all fallen in. The salvage had passed long 
ago—so long—but they had left some undisturbed 
because he sheltered there. 

“ One is my hermitage, where I go to pray,” he 
quavered. The rest were in bad condition, and he had 
heard the last time someone had passed this way, about 
a week ago, that soon all were going to be filled in, and 
the steam tractors were coming by August. 

They could see his poor old mind was wandering. 
His emaciated frame was feeble to a degree. The 
worn black cassock hung upon it, but he was clean 
and shaven. 

Laline’s tender heart was deeply touched. Could 
not she do anything to help him ? she wondered. 

“ I have no flock—they are scattered; and Etticourt 
was so small it will be the last to be remembered,” he 
said resignedly. 

Could he lead them to the dug-outs? David asked 
courteously. It would be so very kind, as, otherwise, 
they might wander aimlessly when once they left 
the car. 

The old priest pointed to the north, across a com¬ 
paratively smooth bit of ground. 



SIX DAYS 101 

“ You could drive over that bit, Monsieur, and then 
we must walk. I will show you/’ 

They thanked him heartily, but could they give 
all that trouble, if it was far? 

“ I will drive Mademoiselle to the line of stumps, 
and come back and fetch you, reverend father,” 
David said. 

The ancient priest bowed with old-world politeness, 
and they went on. 

When Laline was left alone for the few minutes 
when they crossed the smooth ground she looked 
around her. What an awful place—so lonely, so iso¬ 
lated. Nothing could be more melancholy even in the 
brilliant sun. There were deep shell-holes all around, 
and a few hundred yards further on she could see the 
beginning of a trench facing the stumps of what had 
been a wood. 

The exquisite May sunshine seemed to mock the 
cruel souvenirs. An ammunition wagon still lay on its 
side—and what was that horrible-looking monster? 
Why, it was a tank! A tank that she had read about. 
They must go close and see that. And then David 
arrived with the priest. 

“Yes ,* this is the place,” he cried delightedly. “What 
astonishing luck to find it after all this time 1” 

He backed the car on to more firm ground, by a 
hummock, and they left it there and came on. 

The old priest seemed to have forgotten them. He 
was talking to himself in Latin. Perhaps he was say¬ 
ing a prayer. But he was advancing as one who knows 
the road and does not hesitate. 

They followed him respectfully as he led the way 
towards the trench. 

“We took it in a hand-to-hand fight through the 
wood,” David told Laline, “and then we had a regular 


102 


SIX DAYS 


picnic in their dug-outs that night—and the hell of a 
tussle in the counter-attack next morning. Then my 
boss got track of me, and I was hauled back to my work 
at H.Q., just when we had retaken it. It was a 
glorious adventure.” 

“You were not supposed to be fighting, then. What 
were you doing? 

“Well, I had rather important work, but just at 
the moment I had no business there.” 

They had reached the tank by then, Laline was full 
of interest. 

“May we stop for a moment, reverend father?” 
David asked. “Miss Lester wants to make the ac¬ 
quaintance of this prehistoric monster,” and he smiled. 

The priest hardly seemed to understand. He looked 
vaguely over their heads. 

“There is a spring by that stone,” he said. “If you 
are wanting water, I bring it from there.” 

Laline was enchanted with the tank. She must climb 
up and get into it, she said, but David would not let her. 

“It is full of rust and filth. It will spoil that lovely 
suit. Besides, our charming old host looks as if he 
wanted us to come on.” 

So reluctantly, she let herself to be drawn forward. 

“I love its dear old face,” she laughed. “It reminds 
me somehow of my cat, Mumps, when he is sleepy and 
putting his head down. Oh, some day, Major Lamont, 
you must be introduced to Mumps! He’s the thing I 
love best on earth!” 

“I’d be proud to compete with him! Why here 
we are.” 

The priest was striding ahead again, and it was 
wonderful to see the way his feeble limbs seemed to 
support him. He climbed down into the trench ap¬ 
parently without difficulty. 


SIX DAYS 


103 


He lodged now in the village of Oieul, about two 
miles to the east, he told them; but often he came and 
spent a day and a night in this dug-out, because it con¬ 
tained something of his church which the Germans had 
stolen—the little side altar they had used as a buffet, and 
there was one of the candlesticks with the seven 
branches, too. So these things made it sacred to 
him. It would be very tragic for him in August, when 
the authorities would send people to dig it all in. The 
salvage men who had passed in 1919 had been very con¬ 
siderate, and had not disturbed him there, nor in the 
adjoining one. Both were in good preservation still. 

Laline thrilled. She would see a dug-out at last. 
She had read so much about them. 

They walked down the trench, its banks all covered 
with green grasses and spring flowers. It would be red 
with poppies later in the year. 

And then they came to openings in the highly- 
banked earth, and they could see stair-cases very steep, 
going down into what seemed the bowels of the earth. 
One or two were half choked up with mud, but the rest 
looked thoroughly dilapidated. At last one appeared 
clear, and David paused. 

“What if it should be the very hole old Jack and I 
got into,” he exclaimed enthusiastically, but the priest 
went on. 

That led to one he was not quite so sure about—he 
had not been in it lately—but his own shrine he could 
vouch for the safety of. It was the very next. 

David paused. 

“After all, I don't think I shall let you go down, 
honey,” he said. “I’ll go and see and tell you about it. 
It will be awfully dark, and now, when we have all 
forgotten the War and those sort of things, it seems odd 
to be burrowing into the earth.” 


104 


SIX DAYS 


“If you are afraid, I shall go with the reverend 
father alone, then/’ And Laline tripped forward to 
follow the priest. “Why, it has been the ambition of 
my life to see a dug-out, and especially now I know 
there are almost none left, and all my friends who are 
coming over in the fall won’t have the chance to get 
into one.” 

“Well, let me go first and see if it is fit for you.” 

“You are a cautious creature. Look, the priest has 
disappeared; and if he can spend nights and days there, 
I am sure it won’t injure us any.” 

“Why, of course not. But, still, I don’t w^ant you 
to go down.” 

“Then you’d better learn,’once for all, that I shall do 
as I please.” And, laughing, she stepped forward. 

“So be it. You had better be prepared, though. The 
laws of the dark are not the same as the day, and—” 

His eyes were full of passionate admiration. Laline 
interrupted him gaily. 

“You think I am going to ask you to kiss me, then?” 

“No; but I may follow dark laws and do so in 
any case.” 

“I am not timid. Besides, the priest will chaperone 
me.” 

So here he gave her his hand, both laughing gaily, 
and they began to go down the steep steps. 

Before they got very far Laline turned and looked 
back over her shoulder at the picture framed by the 
opening they were leaving. A divine peep of blue sky, 
above the waving flowers at the top of the trench. 

“Oh how lovely the light looks! The dear sky!” 
she cried, and there was a slight catch in her breath. 

Then together they descended into the darkness. 


CHAPTER XII. 


BURIED ALIVE 

David held Laline’s little hand as they descended the 
steep steps. Below them they could see a . faint light 
which came obliquely from the excavation into which 
the priest had already disappeared. 

At the bottom of the stairs, a pace or two to the 
right, there was an opening which was blocked up with 
boards and earth, and, after about six feet of passage to 
the left, they came into the actual dug-out. 

The old father had lighted a little taper, which 
flickered unevenly; the large branch altar candlestick 
still contained the seven tall wax candles, which were 
unlighted. It stood upon a high oaken table that had 
once been the skeleton of a side altar, and behind it, on 
the wall, was hung a crucifix, and beneath it there was 
a vase of spring flowers and a prayer-book. An old 
Normandy cupboard met their view at the opposite end. 

Laline gazed about her, at the earthen roof and the 
large bits of board supporting it, at the uneven floor. 

There was a strange, damp smell that seemed to 
remind her of a root-house in her grandfather’s garden, 
where the potatoes were kept in the winter. 

And to think David had called this “a regular 
palace”—this terrible place of mud and darkness ! 

Certainly things were relative. And men had lived 
here—and died here, her thoughts added with a 
shudder; and she had been safe in America, and not 
really very worried about it at all. 

She crept closer to David’s side. Somehow she felt 
that she wanted to be near to him. He was by now at 

105 


106 SIX DAYS 

the other end of the room—by courtesy we will call it 
a room! 

Excavated in the side of the wall, along which the 
short passage to the staircase opened, so that those 
sleeping there could get the most air, there were two 
tiers of bunks, as in a ship, four in all. They had board 
supports up to the earthen roof. 

Beyond the altar, a doorway could be seen with a 
piece of sacking as a kind of curtain. 

Besides all this, there was an old armchair with one 
broken leg mended by a bit of wood nailed on. It was 
a relic of the Empress Eugenie’s time, and had origi¬ 
nally been covered with bright blue satin damask and 
edged with a deep fringe. A sofa of the same period 
was beyond the altar. They had been stolen from the 
neighboring chateau, not a stone of which exists to-day. 

In the centre of the floor a rude wooden table made 
of boards still stood on its three legs. 

The bunks were full of rotten straw, except one 
nearest to the opening, in which it was clean and new, 
and over that an old rug had been placed by the priest, 
and above it a coarse linen-covered pillow. 

It seemed strangely cold after the May sunshine of 
the upper world. 

But nothing daunted Laline’s spirit now that the 
first wierdness had worn off. Never had she been more 
gay. She peered about everywhere and wanted to try 
on a German helmet which the priest had collected, with 
some bayonets, and one or two old trench spades. 

The dim light from the entrance was making things 
clearer after a time. 

The old man stood back and watched her. He had 
handed her his taper. David had got his torch. He 
had put in a new fitment that very morning, and it was 


SIX DAYS 107 

the strongest one of its kind. He flashed it about 
everywhere. 

'‘You really sleep here sometimes, father?” Laline 
asked unbelievingly, and she was almost aghast when 
the priest assured her he did so. They spoke always 
in French. 

“I spent Reveillion and the last day of the old year 
in meditation, and Good Friday, and the Festival of 
Easter. This is my church.” 

He went now to the cupboard and opened the door: 

“See, here is my store of candles, my daughter, and 
my other little necessary things—a jar of water fetched 
from the spring, and a cup and platter.” 

“Why, it’s quite a home!” And Laline laughed. 

“All that is left to some of us, alas! All in this 
trench were like this—the best dug-outs you could find. 

I had often sat on that chair when I went to visit 
Monsieur le Marquis, The Chateau of Etticourt was 
famous for its splendor and its hospitality.” 

David interrupted here: 

“I believe that’s the very chair I remember, but”— 
and he put his hand to his forehead as if trying to 
recollect—“this is certainly not the dug-out my friend 
and I were in.” 

“No, monsieur, probably not. I brought that chair 
from the one through the opening. I did not venture 
further than just by the door because, one never can 
tell, Monsieur, as Monsieur knows, and there was a 
biscuit-box on the floor.” 

There seemed to be some mystery here, and Laline’s 
feminine brain was instantly intrigued. What could be 
peculiar about a biscuit-box? 

“You should have let the salvage corps clean it all 
up, father,” David said. “I can’t think why they let 
you alone.” 


108 


SIX DAYS 


Then the priest explained how he had pleaded and 
implored that they would touch nothing just in this one 
spot, and how he had been able to influence the com¬ 
mandant not to disturb him in these dug-outs—but two 
there were—which led from this staircase. 

He told how he had said to them that no one would 
enter here, and when the time came for the tractors to 
redeem the land, then he would give up the last relic of 
his holy church, and would say no more. 

“And so they passed on, Monsieur.” 

The old man’s mind seemed to be wandering after 
this; he kept repeating prayers in Latin, while he turned 
and gazed at the crucifix. 

David flashed the torch on the chair. -Yes, it 
certainly was his old friend. 

“I don’t know why it made us laugh so much,” he 
told Laline. “Perhaps we were so dog tired we were 
silly, but to see her there in the mud and filth, after we 
had been wading in blood and carnage, with her blue 
satin and fringe seemed so comic. I remember old Jack 
and I guffawed for five minutes over her, and then we 
had a free fight as to which should sit on her for our 
supper. God, it was sport in those old days!” 

“The sofa looks awfully grand, too,” Laline 
laughed. “Was ‘she’ in your palace also?” 

“No, she must always have been here, but somehow 
I feel that the one we were in was through that opening. 
I know it was at the right of the stairs as we came 
down—and the father said he took the chair from 
there.” 

“The door we saw filled in,” Laline suggested. “Oh, 
do let’s go through the curtain and see it!” 

At this moment the priest spoke again, and David 
went back to him out of courtesy; so Laline, beyond the 


SIX DAYS 


109 


ray of the torch, and carrying her own taper, went -for¬ 
ward alone, and lifted the sacking portiere. 

She was so interested to explore the actual place 
where Major Lamont had been. Nothing dangerous 
or unknown had ever touched her sheltered life. The 
War had been a nightmare to read about in the papers. 
But it had had no more real effect upon her than a stage 
play. That it was unwise to take a step here unguided 
never entered her golden head. 

David’s torch was so powerful that it obscured 
everything beyond its ray, and he did not see where 
Laline was going until he swung the disc round that 
way, and then, with a note of alarm, when he saw that 
she had gone beyond the curtain, he called out : 

“Don’t stir a step, Miss Lester. You must not go 
there alone.” 

“Do you think I am afraid of the laws of the dark?” 
she laughed back at him. “You ought to come and see. 
This one is not half so grand.” 

He strode towards the opening, some strange feel¬ 
ing of fear in his heart, but before he could cover the 
three paces which separated him from the doorway, a 
deafening explosion occurred, and a human body was 
flung against him with violence, and both fell to the 
floor, stunned. 

After some confused moments sense came back to 
him in the choking air. His torch flamed on the floor 
some distance from him, and by its light he saw that it 
was Laline who lay there. 

Was she dead? Oh, God! His mind came back 
more fully now, and he went and picked up the torch 
and flashed it upon the slender body there on the ground. 

No, she was not dead. She sat up and looked at 
him, with dazed, astonished eyes, and' then she shrieked 
aloud: 


110 


SIX DAYS 


“1 stumbled against the biscuit-box. Oh! what 
happened: are we buried alive ?” 

The altar and the crucifix had fallen with the burst¬ 
ing of the wall, and lay there under loose earth, and the 
poor old priest’s head could be seen obtruding from the 
heap of debris when the smoke cleared a little. He was 
moaning and his eyes stared wide. 

David’s numbed senses took in with a ghastly 
shudder that the passage to the staircase had gone. 
Laline was right—they were buried alive. 

Buried alive down in a dug-out, in a lonely place far 
from the habitations of men, where if help should ever 
come from outside, it might not come in_time. 

The whole horror of the* situation made the strong 
man’s heart stop beating for a second, but he did not 
lose his nerve. He put the torch on the table, which he 
set on its legs again. Then he bent and lifted Laline in 
his arms. She gazed at him in frozen terror, then she 
gave a great cry. 

He carried her to the sofa, and laid her down. It 
was uninjured, and stood still against the opposite wall. 

“Oh! tell me what has happened,” she shrieked 
wildly. “I am suffocating. Shall we all die? Don’t 
leave me!” And she screamed again. 

“I must help the old priest,” David said, tenderly. 
“Lie here, honey. Do not be frightened, dear little girl.” 

But she clung to him, crazy with fear. 

Then, when she saw the priest, her frenzied grip 
upon his arms relaxed, and she fell back on the couch. 

The earth was only loosely heaped over the old man, 
and David was soon able to uncover him, and help him 
to his feet. He was unhurt, he said, though he moaned 
unconsciously between the words. 

David led him to the blue satin-covered chair, into 
which he subsided for a second. Then he started up. 


SIX DAYS 111 

His crucifix and his candlestick? Where were 
they ? Alas! 

The crucifix was still among the debris, but the 
candlestick was at the other side of the room, apparently 
unhurt, although the candles were strewn about on the 
earthen floor. 

David found his matchbox, and, picking two candles 
up, he lighted them, and now they could see a little more. 

Half of the wall leading into the adjoining compart¬ 
ment was down, so that the space was now twice 
as large. 

And, yes; the smoke was clearing away mysteri¬ 
ously. Where to? That he must discover, for, per¬ 
haps, in that direction lay deliverance. 

The suffocating smell made them all sick and giddy, 
but, even so, David knew instantly that it must have 
been but a very small bomb or they would have been 
blown to pieces. The earthen wall between the com¬ 
partments had saved them from the greater part of the 
shock, and by some miracle Laline had been flung back 
through the door. 

The sacking which had served for a curtain lay 
close to the sofa now. 

An agony of terror was in the poor child’s eyes 
when David came back to her. Her face was grey, and 
there was a smear of blood on one cheek where some 
little scratch had come. He wiped it off very gently 
with his handkerchief. 

She clung to him piteously, and began to scream 
again as she pointed to the heap of earth where the 
passage to the staircase had been. 

“Oh! save me, save me! I don’t want to die! We 
are buried alive. We shall suffocate and starve!” 

He held her to him with infinite tenderness, as 
though she had been a child. 


112 


SIX DAYS 


“Laline, try not to be so frightened. Honey! There 
is sure to be another way out. Don’t tremble so, 
little girl.” 

And the firmness in his tones reassured her and 
brought her more to herself. 

David held her close in his arms and smoothed her 
hair. Her hat had gone. Then he tried to brush the 
earth from her clothes—it was, fortunately, very dry. 
She fell to sobbing now more quietly, and then the 
priest spoke: 

“It is the will of God, my children.” And his voice 
was far away. 

This terrified Laline. The will of God that they 
were to die ! Oh! why had she gone through the sack¬ 
ing curtain and laughed at David when, he had told her 
to come back? She had stumbled against something, 
and then had come that crash—that horrible crash. 

She tried hard to collect her senses and to control 
herself, but panic was seizing her, and she bounded 
from the sofa and rushed up and down again, shriek¬ 
ing wildly: 

“Save me, save me! I won’t, I won’t die!” 

“Courage, my child,” the priest murmured again. 
“Control this unseemly terror and let us go into God’s 
presence with peace and calm.” 

Laline halted in her wild rushing. He had touched 
some part of her pride. She flung herself upon her 
knees before the old man and buried her face in 
her hands. 

“Oh, father !” she whispered brokenly. “Help me 
to be brave. But life is so beautiful, I do not want 
to die!” 


CHAPTER XIII. > -I 

THE BRIDE OF DEATH 

The sight of Laline, as she knelt by the priest, 
wrung David’s heart. How could he save her? He 
lit one of the candles, and took it with him to explore 
the other compartment. 

The full awfulness of the situation was growing 
upon him now that the first shock was subsiding. But 
the iron nerves of the man were controlled by his iron 
will. And now a rage with himself was holding him. 
How had he been such a fool as to risk going down any 
dug-out which was three years old? He who had to 
carry a message to Garcia at the end of his six days’ 
leave! This was a sorry finish to the first of them. 
And all because he had been led away by his desire to 
please a girl. Here they were, trapped in the earth like 
weasels, with only the slenderest chance of life, and not 
only he, but she—and he held his breath with the pain 
of the thought—Laline, too, might have to die. 

The force of the explosion had been at right angles, 
and had blown in the whole of the wall which he knew 
divided the dug-out from the staircase passage, It 
might be that it was only that which had blown down, 
and the staircase might possibly be clear, if he could dig 
through to it. He remembered the old trench spade 
which the priest had shown them. 

Then he began to hold the lighted candle in dif¬ 
ferent places, to see where the air was coming from, for 
the smoke was nearly gone, so, obviously, there must be 
some outlet to the upper world. He would find it. 

Yes, the draught came from the floor of the 

% 113 


114 


SIX DAYS 


northern corner, and if this was the dug-out that he had 
been in with Jack, he remembered that there was a 
second excavation below, and he fancied its opening had 
been in that very place. 

Yes, there was the hole now, half closed in by a 
board on top of it, and, sprinkled with the earth from 
the explosion, it could easily escape view. 

It only took him a moment to dislodge the board, 
and he could see below. The grim steep ladder was 
rotten and broken. But the rush of air gave him hope. 

He paused a moment and thought. If he attempted 
to climb down there now, he might fall, and become dis¬ 
abled, and then the chance for life of the whole three 
would be gone. It might be better first to try to dig 
through to the place where the staircase ought to be. 

Had he been alone he would not have hesitated for 
a moment; he would have tried to go down the broken 
ladder at all costs, there and' then. But the thought of 
the priest and Laline held him, and made him decide 
first to try the other plan, or, at all events, get either of 
the other two to hold the light while he tried to go down. 

What were the chances of being saved from outside ? 
They were not great, for there could be absolutely no 
trace of where they had gone. They had not met any 
one except the priest after they had bought the 
chocolate, and they had gone right off the main road. 
There was the car. Yes; but that might take days to 
find, having no clue, and then it might be too late. 

Had the explosion made a show in the trench? 
Probably none at all, since the ceiling of neither com¬ 
partment was blown up. All that anyone would be 
likely to see would be one more filled-in staircase look¬ 
ing like many of the rest. No; it would be a miracle 
if help came from outside in time. He must not count 
on that, but must use his wits and his hands. 


SIX DAYS 


115 


He went back into the first dug-out to fetch the 
spade. 

Laline was still kneeling by the old priests side; 
her hair was all deranged, and some curls of it were 
hanging down. 

The priest was talking in French now, and telling 
her of the life to come, and with the whole.of her will 
the poor little girl was trying to listen and suppress her 
agony of terror. 

And to David there came a new spirit of love for 
her. There was something so pathetic about her slender 
outline in the dim light of the one candle, her little 
hands up-raised. 

And she would die of starvation and thirst, unless 
he could save her. 

They would all three die. 

A sudden passionate longing for life convulsed 
him—life and love—and that he might accomplish his 
duty. The agony of that—that he should fail to carry 
the message to Garcia! 

As his eyes rested on Laline, tenderness grew in his 
heart. He must save her —his love! And suddenly he 
knew that she was his love1 All the camouflage with 
which he had been enveloping his emotions fell from 
him and he knew that she mattered to him more than 
his life. He loved her really, at last. 

He asked her to come and hold the light for him, 
while he looked down the hole once more. And she 
followed with alacrity. But when she saw the horribly 
deep chasm, with the broken ladder evidently going 
down into the bowels of the earth in darkness, a panic 
seized her. All reserve left her. She could not let him 
go, perhaps to immediate death—alone! 

“David!” she gasped brokenly. “I—I—can’t bear it. 
You may be killed. I love you! I want you! Oh! 


116 


SIX DAYS 


let us stay together here till we die, or, if you go there, 
I must go with you.” 

“Laline!”—his voice vibrated with emotion—“my 
little golden girl!” And he lifted her in his arms. 

Then their lips met in that divine kiss which means 
the union of two souls when the dross of material things 
has fallen from them. 

“Heart of me!” David whispered, when at last he 
held her from him. But then they were startled by a 
moan from the other room, and they returned there 
quickly, to find the old priest lying back in the chair, 
with closed lids; his face ghastly white. 

Laline took his thin hands, and rubbed them gently. 
And at last he opened his eyes. 

“I am soon going to leave you, my children,” he 
quavered. “My work is done; and if it is the will of 
God that you follow me, we shall meet again. Peace 
be with you.” 

His voice seemed to grow a little stronger and his 
eyes burned. It was as though he saw the distant heaven. 

David took a sudden resolve. If it was all hopeless, 
and they must die, there were still some hours, long 
hours, before they would begin to feel the frightful 
pangs of hunger and thirst—hours in which love might 
gild the ghastly prison into paradise! 

His heart began to beat violently. Laline was there, 
his little love, and if the old priest married them she 
would be his indeed, his while life lasted. 

And the glory of the thought exalted him and filled 
him with courage and purpose. 

The priest was surely going to die. No time must 
be lost in indecisions. 

He took Laline’s hand, and, when she saw the look 
in his eyes, a soft colour flooded her white cheeks. 

“ Darling,” David said to her, his voice deep with 


SIX DAYS 


117 


wild passion, “ I love you with my whole being. I know 
it at last. Will you marry me now, and.then if death 
comes, he will claim us together—as one.” 

What mattered more to Lalinei Ordinary affairs 
of life had gone into nothingness. A wild exaltation 
filled her, and all her suppressed desires for love and ro¬ 
mance burst their inhibitions. The price of death 
seemed nothing to her for such mad joy—to be David’s 
wife! If but for a single day! 

“ David, I am yours,” she breathed softly. “ Let us 
be married now.” 

Then they went over to the priest, and David whis¬ 
pered low. 

“ Father, I love this lady, and she loves me. Will 
you give us to each other in the sight of God before 
you die? ” 

The old man sat up erect and looked at them, his 
eyes then turning with a helpless stare to the place 
where the altar had been, and he made a faint gesture 
with his transparent hands. 

David understood what he meant, and gave reassur¬ 
ing words. For to the priest there could be no true 
wedding without the sacred accessories. 

“We will set the altar again, father, and then if 
you give us your blessing, nothing which comes after can 
matter so much.” 

“ So be it, my son.” 

Laline then took care of him, while David prepared 
their church. ; 

The altar was soon detached from the loose earth, 
and the crucifix also, and, scraping about, David found 
the book of prayers. 

Then he collected the scattered candles and set them 
in the seven branches upon the altar and lit them all, 
taking the one he had already lit and fastened with its 


118 


SIX DAYS 


grease to the table, and the one he had held in his hand 
to complete the number. Then he turned to the priest. 
But as he came towards him his eye caught the yellow 
and white of the sprays of spring flowers which had 
been flung beyond the heap of earth. He paused and 
picked them up and laid them down upon the altar on 
the vellumdbound book of prayer. 

Then he came to the two by the blue satin chair. 
Laline was holding the dying priest’s hand. 

When the old man saw that all was ready a new spurt 
of life seemed to enter into him. He started to his feet, 
without assistance, and, David supporting him to where 
the altar stood, he opened the big old book. 

Then the bridal pair knelt down on the bare earthen 
floor, and David took Laline’s little right hand in his, 
and drew off a small hoop of diamonds she wore to keep 
the huge sapphire her father had given her on her 
seventeenth birthday in place, as it was too large for 
her now. 

And so the ceremony began, and it seemed to them 
as they knelt there that a choir of angels were chanting 
their wedding hymn. 

And when the ring was on and all the vows were 
made, this beautiful bride of death turned two shining 
starry eyes upon her husband, and in all the days of her 
sheltered, luxurious life she had never been so happy 
as she was now, with starvation, and thirst, and perhaps 
suffocation, staring her in the face. For Love is a god, 
and when he comes into his kingdom there is no room 
for fear. 

“ Mine for ever! ” David whispered in ecstasy, as 
he bent to give the first fond nuptial kiss. 

But as he spoke the last words of blessing the old 
priest had swayed a little, and now he staggered and fell 


SIX DAYS 


119 


forward. And when David caught him in his arms he 
knew that he was dead. 

He carried the emaciated form into the other com¬ 
partment and there laid it down, placing his ear to 
the heart. 

Yes: life had fled. The spirit had fulfilled its mission 
and so passed on. 

David folded the thin hands reverently upon the 
breast, and then returned to his bride. 

She was still kneeling before the altar, her golden 
head bowed. * 

“ Laline,” he said, and his voice trembled with in¬ 
tense feeling, “ the reverend father has gone to prepare 
a way for us—if we must die. But nothing matters to 
us now—only each other. Tell me that you are content!” 

Then the radiance of heaven filled Laline’s grey eyes. 

“ David,” she whispered, with wild passion, " I 
would rather die here with you than have life up there 
with any other man. I love you, and I am yours! ” 

“ Soul of me! ” was all he answered, and folded her 
in his arms. 

Thus a great love takes the spirit beyond all the 
paltry littlenesses of this modern world, on to what the 
angels know in paradise. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


DEATH BY INCHES 

For a few moments of ecstasy David held Laline 
close, and then he made her lie down and rest while he 
went to bury the priest in the other compartment. He 
felt no sorrow for the poor old man, his mission was 
ended, and he deserved his rest. His beloved crucifix 
should be placed above him. 

The grimness of the whole situation left no room 
for smaller impressions. ! 

When after the last spadeful of earth had been 
thrown over the deeply-buried corpse, and the crucifix 
was laid reverently upon it, David went back to Laline, 
and found her sleeping. 

So he cleared the place of the fallen earth, and began 
reviewing their resources. 

Three dozen candles in a box in the cupboard, as 
well as the seven in the altar candlestick, all but one of 
which he had carefully extinguished, the packet of choco¬ 
late they had bought in the cafe—eight squares in all— 
and a large earthen pitcher of water! He remembered 
with a pang that his flask of vieille wine was in the car, 
in his overcoat pocket. 

If they ate one square each a day, each square as 
big as a gold twenty-dollar piece, the chocolate would 
last them for four days, and there were certainly four 
glasses of water apiece in the pitcher, if not more. Of 
candles, there would be enough to keep the light con¬ 
tinuously for that period, and there was his torch. His 
box was also full of matches. 
no 


SIX DAYS 


m 


Then he put his hand in his pocket and felt for his 
revolver—a small six-shooter. Yes, it was loaded. 

At the fifth day, if he had not found the way out and 
no help had come from outside, he would shoot Laline 
and then himself. Until then there was joy—< 
and work. 

* * * * * 

When all is darkness, neither night nor day makes 
any difference. 

But when, still clasped in each other’s arms, the two 
awoke next morning it was seven o’clock by David’s 
watch. And the second of the six days’ leave had begun. 

But, though each knew that probable death lay in 
front of them, their waking thoughts were full of peace 
and bliss. Something wild was in both their natures, 
and they had taken mad joy from the anguish of the 
situation. For when death threatens full young lives, 
the spirit of re-creation burns in them more fiercely. 

No sheltered bride and groom upon their wedding 
night in downy silken r^est, by the Mediterranean sea, 
were ever happier than were these two in the chilly, 
wretched dug-out. 

And now, after divine hours, they awoke in their 
couch of straw, with the poor rug over it, and the one 
coarse pillow, full of thoughts of tenderness and love, 
but horribly hungry. 

For their supper had been the one square each of 
the chocolate, and their wedding wine a tiny glass of 
water. * 

David had found some other things besides the 
candles and the pitcher—a folder blanket and a clean 
pillow-case. These had seemed as precious wedding 
gifts, and they had laughed together as they arranged 
their bed. And Laline was sweet and joyous, and said 
that they were “ playing house ” like children. 


122 


SIX DAYS 


The first day of their marriage must be spent in 
work—hard digging. 

Their dressing could not take much time for they 
had neither bath nor hair brushes, though David had his 
pocket-comb, and insisted upon being Laline’s maid 
and combing out her golden curls. This caused him 
immense pleasure. 

“ Fairy gold ” he called the glistening tresses, and 
he buried his face in them and kissed them. 

“ My honey wife, you are so beautiful! How mad 
and blind I was on that tiresome ship that I did not 
know you were mine, and claim you at once.” 

She pouted adorably. 

“ Arrogance—I knew you belonged to me, though, 
from the very first moment.” 

“ You were determined to scalp me, little Indian! ” 

“ Yes—in the beginning just that—but soon—Oh, 
soon David, I had begun to love you—and—well—how 
much I do now I can’t say.” 

He clasped her to him. 

“ Feel,” he said, putting her soft palms against his 
dark face. “ It will require some love for me to be able 
to get by with that, I’m thinking! Sweetheart, how can 
you care for such a black unshayen brute—you dainty 
bit of loveliness ? ” 

“ I like it like that ”—and she rubbed an exquisite 
finger on the rough surface. “ It looks strong.” 

“ Much too strong,” he laughed. “ By tomorrow I 
shall be a regular ruffian.” 

" I don’t care how you look. I don’t care if you grow 
even a horrid beard before we are rescued. You are 
my David —and that is all that matters.” 

It is wonderful when people are put to it, and their 
instincts are refined, how tidy they can make themselves 
on nothing! 


SIX DAYS 


ns 


When David and Laline were quite ready, they pre¬ 
tended to go to breakfast, and with great ceremony 
David divided their portion for the day in two halves 
for each. 

Breakfast and supper,” he said merrily. “ We will 
have to pretend we are on a diet, and don’t eat lunch— 
or use self-hypnotism to say we are not hungry! ” 

Laline looked a little wistful, so he slipped his arm 
round her. They had drawn the sofa up to the table: 

“ You are the bravest, sweetest baby wife a man 
ever had! ” And he kissed her. “ My own, we will 
just have to try not to think about it. If I see you suf¬ 
fering it will weaken my nerve ”—and his attractive 
voice broke a little—“ and I sha’n’t be able to work. As 
soon as you have finished that last scrap of chocolate 
you must come and help me.” — 

Laline pulled herself together. Tears had risen in 
her eyes in spite of herself. 

“Of course I will.” 

So they went to this task with a mighty determina¬ 
tion, in the direction whei^e David knew that the stair¬ 
case must be. He was to dig, and Laline was to shovel 
the loose earth up over the priest’s grave at the side. 

But after an hour, David guessed by her silence 
that she was growing very tired, all unaccustomed to 
any labour, as she was. And his heart was sinking, too, 
for, as fast as he dug, more loose earth from the explo¬ 
sion fell in from the top, and he seemed to be making 
no headway. 

“ I want you to go and rest now, darling,” he said 
tenderly. “ I’ll take some measurements and wake you 
up again later.” 

Laline tried to persuade him to let her stay with 
him, but he was firm. No; she must go to sleep for an 


124 


SIX DAYS 


f 

hour, and he picked her up in his arms, and carried her 
into the other compartment, and laid her down in their 
bunk. Then he brought the candle over, and looked 
at her. She was very pale, and the rough spade handle 
had rubbed the skin off her little delicate fingers. 

A passionate wave of tenderness swept through 
David as he kissed them. He must stay with her and 
pet and soothe her until she sank into forgetfulness. 
Poor little darling child! 

So he pulled up the chair, and sat down beside her, 
and told her stories, and kissed each eyelid and each 
curl, and put life into her with his firm courage and 
cheerfulness. 

And at last, intoxicated by his love words and his 
caresses, she felt that it did not very much matter if 
they were going to die. She was absolutely happy. 

But when she was sleeping peacefully, and David 
went back to his work, his brave heart sank and a sicken¬ 
ing weight grew under it. 

What if he should not be able to dig through ? What 
if he would have to shoot her ? For to watch her dying 
by inches was more than he could bear. That much 
chocolate, and that much water, would be enough to 
keep them alive for four days. And then—? But he 
must succeed! And he went on with his task with 
fresh vigor. 

Exhaustion made Laline sleep for several hours. 
The air was cold and fairly fresh. David could feel it 
coming up from the hole in the north corner. He had 
gone about three feet now, clearing the loose earth 
right up to the top, when it was solid, and he judged 
that by two feet more he ought to reach the frame of 
the blocked-up doorway that they had seen when they 
came down the staircase. Then, if the logs which sup- 


SIX DAYS 


125 


ported the side and top of the passage had not fallen 
in—surely before four days he could dig up the staircase. 

If the logs had not fallen in! 

That was a disturbing thought. 

.Not that, given time, he could not dig even round 
them, but alone, and without much food, could he ac¬ 
complish it in four days? Was it possible? 

His thoughts went back to Laline. 

He loved her now as he had never believed he could 
possibly love a woman. 

Her soul had indeed come through the dross of her 
education. He thrilled when he thought of her lovely 
little face, all lit with passion, when she had said she 
would rather die with him here than have life up there 
with any other man. 

But there were days—ghastly, toilsome days—in 
front of them when hunger would weaken wills. He 
must never fail to comfort her, to keep a firm upper lip, 
and never show his despair. 

Then he remembered La Rochefoucauld’s maxim— 
" Perfect valor is to do without witness that which one 
is capable of doing before all the world.” 

That would be his motto. 

He had been in nasty, tight places in the War— 
plenty of carnage and excitement, when he had not given 
a thought to his life. But the slow torture of hunger 
and thirst and hopelessness was different. And to see 
the thing you love best on earth sinking under your 
eyes—that would require nerve indeed! 

His strong will conquered all thoughts of depres¬ 
sion. She would wake refreshed presently, and there 
was their supper—and the night! And here the young, 
strong blood ran in his veins, and he began to whistle 
softly as he plied his spade. 


no 


SIX DAYS 


It was five o’clock when Laline awoke, and, as she 
opened her eyes, fear gripped her as in the first moments 
after the explosion had taken place. She did not hear 
David. He had paused a moment in his work to mop 
his head. And the darkness—the one candle was with 
him—and the silence filled Laline with panic. A scream 
of terror rent the air and brought him headlong to 
her side. 

“ My honey! What is it? Are you hurt? ” he 
cried, with blanching face. 

Then shame overcame her. He would despise her 
for having screamed. 

“No, no, dearest,” and she smiled constrainedly. 
“ I was dreaming. No; there is nothing. I’m all right.” 

David understood just what had happened. Dear, 
brave little girl. It was finer of her to control herself 
and put on a good face than if she had felt no fear, 
he reasoned. 

“ See, I’ve done a lot now, darling. I am going to 
rest beside you for a while. Will you hold my hand, 
honey, and I’ll have a little sleep? ” 

She was quite happy again to be near him, and all 
the tenderness of a mother came uppermost in her when 
she saw how tired he looked. The strong growth of 
beard was black all over his chin and upper lip now, 
and his usually immaculately brushed hair was deranged. 
He wore no collar, nor tie, nor coat, and his brow was 
wet with sweat. But his splendid black eyes were as 
dauntless as ever, and passionate adoration filled Laline. 
This glorious, strong man. What need she fear ? Cer¬ 
tainly not death, because they would face it together. 

She must be worthy of him—must be brave 
and calm. 

He lay down beside her in the narrow bed and she 


SIX DAYS 


m 


covered him with the blanket. He held and kissed her 
little hand. It was now her turn to lull him to sleep. 
No long matter, for he was worn out. 

And then she watched over him for two solid hours. 
And as the minutes passed her soul rose higher and 
higher out of all the little paltry influences which had 
kept it submerged. 

She prayed intently to God to save them, to keep her 
courage firm, to bring them into the light once more, 
that she might give her life to noble things and be her 
loved David’s helpmate and his true wife. 

And perhaps angels were listening to her, for pres¬ 
ently she, too, fell off again into the sweetest sleep. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE HUE AND CRY 

Laline’s aunt, Mrs. Greening, and the Whitmores 
and Jack Lumley arrived at Amiens by a late afternoon 
train on the Thursday, getting to the Hotel du Rhin 
just in time for dinner. 

They were much surprised to hear that Major La- 
mont and Miss Lester had gone off in the two-seater 
immediately after lunch, and had not returned! 

Jack was horribly jealous, and felt that he hated 
his old friend. 

Mrs. Greening was apprehensive. Was this Major 
Lamont going to be a nuisance, and entangle her niece 
in a flirtation which might so anger Jack that he would 
retire from the field? 

Mrs. Greening was most anxious for that match. 
She desired her niece to be a Countess some day—a 
solid English Countess ! Not one of those ridiculous 
foreign ones whose titles you could never be? sure 
amounted to anything. 

She had taken Channings Priory, one of the family 
places that the old miserly Earl, Jack’s cousin, never 
went to, on purpose, so that Laline might have a glimpse 
of what her future grandeur would be. And here all 
her machinations had been upset, just when they were 
going nicely, by a simple Major of their own nation! 
It was really too bad. 

She had never seen her niece so interested in any 
man before. In fact, she had a shrewd suspicion that 
the “ crush ” she had was turning into a case of down¬ 
right love. 

128 


SIX DAYS 


129 


She had spoken to Celestine about it after the pair 
had started in the morning. What did the faithful 
maid think ? Was there danger ahead ? 

Celestine’s shrug spoke volumes. It said that she 
did not want to discuss her lamb’s affairs with anyone, 
but if Mrs. Greening wanted to know her opinion, mon 
Dieu ! It was a case, a very bad case of “ beguin ”—a 
headlong passion capable of any madness which the 
mind of man could suggest. 

“You really think it is serious, then, Celestine ?” 

“ My own hope is, madame, that Monsieur le Ma¬ 
jor, not being so attracted as Mademoiselle, it may hurt 
her pride, and she throw him away.” 

“ You don’t say he has the impertinence not to be 
as much in love with my niece as she is with him? ” 
Mrs. Greening was horrified at such unheard of negli¬ 
gence. All men had fallen at the feet of Laline! 

Celestine shrugged her shoulders again. 

“ Well, we just can’t sit down under it,” Mrs. Green¬ 
ing announced. “ I am sorry I ever consented to go on 
this trip! ” 

Thus, when they reached Amiens and Laline and 
Major Lamont were absent, the usually complacent 
aunt’s wrath rose. 

And when she was ready to go down to dinner at 
eight o’clock, and still there were no signs of them, a 
dull anger began to burn in her. 

Jack was pale with chagrin and jealousy when the 
party met in the garden outside the large dining-room. 
“ What can have become of them ? ” Mrs. Whitmore 
said. 

The Judge was of opinion that they had stopped 
somewhere to dine on the road, and that they could not 
mend matters by making their own dinner late by wait- 

9 


430 SIX DAYS 

ing for them. So they went into the restaurant and 
began their meal. 

Nine o’clock came, and then ten—everyone trying 
to avoid the subject and act as usual. 

But in Mrs. Greening’s heart there grew the con¬ 
viction that they had eloped! 

“ What do you think can have happened, Jack ” she 
asked at last. “ I am becoming very anxious. What is 
to be done? ” 

“ They must have had some awful accident,” Mrs. 
Whitmore interposed tactfully. But the Judge snub¬ 
bed her. 

“ Why, there’s no sense in that, mother. Young 
folks like a moonlight drive. You did yourself, my 
dear, when you were their age.” 

“ Jack, what are we to do? ” And Mrs. Greening 
almost began to cry. 

Jack thought they ought to get a motor at once, and 
start out along the road to Albert and make inquiries 
at the villages, to see if anyone had seen them pass. 

But it took more than an hour before a car could 
be procured at that time of the night, and it was nearly 
twelve o’clock when Jack started off alone. 

He, too, now began to feel that they had eloped. 
David was a magnificient driver, and if there had been 
a bad accident on any road leading out of Amiens the 
people of the hotel would have heard of it by now. 

He returned after a fruitless search at half-past 
six the next morning. Mrs. Greening was pacing her 
room. Hq had not chanced upon the little cafe where 
Laline and David had bought the chocolate—it was far 
off the main road. One or two drowsy peasants in 
different villages, angry at being awakened from their 
sleep, said they made no record of cars that passed. 
Tourists came pretty often. But one man and his wife 


SIX DAYS 


131 


did say they believed they did see a two-seater about 
four o’clock that day, with a young man in it, and a 
young lady in blue. They were going toward 
Albert. No one had heard of any accident. 

Mrs. Greening rushed out into the passage to Jack 
as he came to her door. 

One look at his face confirmed her ears. “ You 
think that they have eloped? ” Jack was very pale, and 
his jaw was set firm. “ I am afraid I do? ” 

“Where? Where can they possibly have decided 
to go?” 

“ Perhaps on into Belgium.” 

“Had you any suspicions before, Jack?” 

“ I have been very uneasy since one night on the 
ship. But it is awfully unlike old David to do that sort 
of thing.” tf v j 

“ It is not unlike Laline,” Mrs. Greening snapped. 
“ It is just what she would do to avoid all fuss and all 
possible scenes with you.” 

“ I should never make scenes.” His face was full 
of pain. 

“ I have been in and out of my bed all night with 
anxiety.” 

“ Go and lie down now, Mrs. Greening. I am going 
to have a bath and change, and later, at breakfast, we 
will have another consultation. The Judge will tell 
us what he has been able to do with the hotel proprietor 
and the police. I’ll go now to his room. But if there 
was any news he would have come and told you.” 

So at the moment when Laline awoke that first morn¬ 
ing in her husband’s arms in the dug-out her aunt had 
just closed her eyes at Amiens in a restless sleep. 

Judge Whitmore and the proprietor had had long 
interviews with the police. There had been no accidents 
anywhere on any of the roads for forty miles round 


132 


SIX DAYS 

that they knew of, and they certainly would have heard 
if any had occurred. The only people who had seen the 
two-seater pass, to their recollection, were the peasant 
and his wife, who had already spoken to Jack, and they 
had then been going towards Albert. At Albert, later 
on that Friday, it was discovered one or two persons 
had noticed the pair and the car when they stopped to 
look at the ruins of the church. They had then taken 
the road toward Lille, it was believed. Oh, yes! They 
were going along the main road. Then Saturday came, 
and the distracted party still had had no news. 

Celestine and Mrs. Greening together were nearly 
crazy, but both in their hearts believed that elopement 
was the only solution of the mystery. But why by now 
had they not heard. 

Fergusson had been left in Paris to complete his 
master’s arrangements about equipment for their mis¬ 
sion, which was to take them into the unknown at the 
end of six days, so that he knew nothing about all these 
happenings. And it was not until Sunday, when every 
available clue had been followed fruitlessly, that Jack 
thought of telegraphing to him. 

He would know, if anyone did, what his master 
would be likely to do, Celestine assured him. 

The two women were now quite hysterical, and 
Mrs. Whitmore had a very wearing time with them both. 

They would weep and wring their hands, and sug¬ 
gest impossibilities. 

Jack was sick at heart. 

On the Sunday—the fourth day—the police got 
news of the cafe. The old couple and the girl had gone 
on a visit to a married daughter at Calais since the even¬ 
ing of the day they sold the chocolate, but they re¬ 
turned on the Sunday at lunch time, and, hearing of the 
hue and cry, they offered their evidence to the police. 


SIX DAYS 


133 


The girl told how the young lady was “ belle comme 
un ange,” and how the Monsieur was so handsome; and 
they were evidently fiances—they had no eyes but for 
each other. 

They had asked if there were any dug-outs left, 
the old man said, and he had told them, maybe, towards 
Gommecourt district. That was all he knew. 

By the time Ferguson arrived at Amiens Jack and 
the police had searched Gommecourt. No; no one there 
had seen a trace of any two-seater. No dark young man 
or beautiful young lady had entered that village, where 
just a few shelters had been run up within the last year. 
The desolate country round held no habitations. 

When Jack reached the Hotel du Rhin on the Sun¬ 
day night late Ferguson was waiting for him. 

They had a long consultation together in Jack’s 
room. Fergusson would hear of no theory of elopement. 
His master, he told Jack, had an important appointment 
with the Ambassador on the Tuesday, and for nothing 
in the world, even the most beautiful lady, would he fail 
to keep it. 

“ He held no store by lassies,” and it was an accident 
which had happened, Fergusson would bet his soul. 

“ You think so? ” Jack said hoarsely, agony in his 
heart. “ Then as it all must have occurred four days 
ago, and it had poured with rain all last night and the 
night before, by now they must be dead.” 

“ Dead or alive, I’ll find my master! ” 

And, dead or alive, Jack would find Laline! 


CHAPTER XVI. 


TWO MORE DAYS, AND THEN—? 

On the morning of the third day’s leave the married 
lovers woke very late. The exhaustion and hunger had 
made them drowsy. They were clasped in each other’s 
arms when David’s lids at last unclosed. It was thus 
Laline would lie always. She could not rest or sleep 
an inch away from him, she told him, and it seemed 
some comfort to them both to be so near. 

David raised himself arid moved her gently on to 
the coarse, linen-covered pillow. She did not wake. He 
leaned over and looked at her in the light of the one 
candle, now guttering on the table, which was pulled 
up close to the bunk. 

Her oval face had grown smaller and seemed very 
pale. The babyish brown lashes appeared to be resting 
upon violet shadows. There was a pathetic droop of 
the lips, and the golden curls were dank. The veins 
upon her beautiful young, white bosom looked start¬ 
lingly blue. 

David uncovered her, and put his ear to her heart. 
It was beating a little unevenly, and with no great 
strength. Her little hands seemed transparent and felt 
damp; the diamond hoop wedding-ring hung loose. The 
big sapphire on the right hand was gone. It had slipped 
off in the night from the little finger which had grown 
too small to hold it. David had found it in the worn 
old rug, and put it on the table, and the ray of the candle 
now hit a facet, and a blue radiance seemed to be com¬ 
ing from it. 

134 


SIX DAYS 


135 


There was something infinitely solemn in this 
awakening. It was not joyous like the first morning of 
their marriage. 

But if he had thought he had loved Laline then, 
he knew now that adoration had entered into his feeling 
for her. 

He had awakened after his two hours’ sleep the 
evening before, and found her in a cramped position 
beside him. She had not stirred in her long vigil for 
fear of waking him, and the eyes which looked down 
into his were as an angel’s. All trace of the coquettish 
challenge, which was so habitual to them in the old days, 
had gone. 

“ My sweetest heart! ” he had murmured, a little 
brokenly, and clasped her to him. 

Then they had supped upon the half-square of choco¬ 
late each, and, refreshed with the rest and scant food, 
David had begun work again. He made her come and 
sit in the inner compartment with him, bringing the blue 
satin chair for her, which they called “ Mammy Muff,” 
as Laline had assured him laughingly it was the image 
of the mother bear “ Mammy Muff’s ” chair in her nurs¬ 
ery book of the story of “ The Three Bears and Goldy 
Locks.” 

David would not let her do any work. Her hands 
were blistered from the little she had done the day before. 
She must just sit there and amuse him, he said. 

And the two kept up the comedy for several hours. 
Laline knowing that it was difficult for him to speak, 
digging so hard, tried to tell him entertaining things 
about some of their mutual friends in Washington, and 
at last she began to sing to him softly. 

She had not much voice, but it was nicely trained, 
and very sweet. 


136 


SIX DAYS 


“ Yes, that is heavenly, darling little honey. Sing 
to me, it makes work easy.” 

And he threw a great spade full of earth aside 
with vigour. 

She sang all the silly sentimental jazz songs she 
had danced to all the winter, and kept time with her 
little feet and a clapping of the hands. It kept her 
warm, and the gaiety of the tunes raised her spirits. 

“ I do believe, if I keep on, I shall be through by 
morning, honey. It takes so long because the earth 
keeps falling in from the top,” David said after a while. 
“ And then won’t we just bolt for the car! ” 

“ Don’t you wonder what the others are doing? ” 
And Laline laughed, in spite of the gravity of the situa¬ 
tion. “ Auntie and Celestine will be sure we’ve bolted 
to Brussels, because I’ve always said I would love a 
run-away wedding. Willemon Dodge often used to 
implore me to elope with him. Fancy if I had gone! ” 
David stopped digging for a moment. 

“ Willemon Dodge! ” And then he thought for a 
moment. If she had gone she would be safe now. 
Would he rather that? He looked at her hard, at her 
dainty slender gure, still so neat in the blue frock, at 
her bewitching little face, and the golden curls, combed 
out and hanging down her back like a child’s now to 
please him. And then fierce, primitive passion swept 
him. No. He wanted her; she was his in death and 
in life, and should never be any other man’s! 

His black eyes flashed. Indeed, he looked a ruffian 
standing there with the spade in his hand, and his dark, 
unshaven face bristling with nearly a three days’ beard. 

“ David! ” exclaimed Laline, surprised. “ What 
on earth is the matter with you? ” 

“ I’m damned jealous, that’s all! ” 

Some of her old flirtatious mood came back to her. 


SIX DAYS 


1ST 


This was simply delicious—David jealous! It was 
she who had been jealous before, never he. 

“ Willemon Dodge is a very nice boy.” 

“ Just a tango partner. You know, when we get 
back, I shall not stand for any of these fools hang¬ 
ing around." 

“ Indeed! I am to be shut up and not allowed to 
dance, then? I wonder you go on digging to get out. 
I’d be safer here." 

Her whole face was sparkling; she was once more 
back in her element of teasing a man. 

He put down the spade and seized her rather roughly 
in his arms. 

“ Look here, young woman," he said, “ you’re not 
dealing with one of those mut heads, remember. Your 
husband knows jolly well how to look after what be¬ 
longs to him!" And he kissed her with passionate 
fierceness, his lips almost bruising her soft lips and the 
bristles of his moustache scratching her fine skin! 

A wild quiver of passion flowed through Laline. 
How she loved him! How she worshipped his strength l 
She, of course, could never want any silly Willemon 
Dodge worshippers—never any more. 

“ Oh! D—a—vid! " she gasped, when he released 
her a little. “ What a dreadful, adorable brute you are I" 

“ I am glad you said 4 adorable '! " And he sat 
down on the blue satin chair with her still in his arms, 
everything forgotten in the passion he was feeling. 

“ I want to make you adore me always. I shall be 
enough for you, I promise you. I am a brute, I know, 
and I would kill any other man who attempted to take 
you from me!” 

Laline felt intoxicated with emotion. 


138 


SIX DAYS 


“ Have you ever loved a girl before, David? ” she 
asked. “ And did you kill her? Or how did it end? ” 

“No. I threw her away because she was a cheap 
weakling, and lied to me.” 

“ How was she—weak ? ” It might be better to 
know this. 

“ She could not prevent her vanity from making 
her fool with another man when I was away.” 

“ She did not love you, then,” eagerly. 

“ Yes, I believe she did, and that was the clieap part. 
If she had not loved, it would have been natural, since 
she was always surrounded by men—just as you were, 
you little coquette! ” 

“ Poor girl; of course she had to have consolation 
when you were not there! ” 

“ Is that how you look at it! Well, you just try it 
on when we get back.” 

Laline pouted. “And you? How about Mrs. 
Hamilton?” 

David now determined that he, too, would tease. 

“ Oh, well a man must have a little outing some¬ 
times. She’s a charming woman.” 

Anger filled Laline. Her latent jealousy about the 
Ambassador’s niece flamed up. 

“ David, if you dare to look at anyone else I’ll go 
right off with Jack. He’d take me away in a minute 
if I were only to give him the tenth part of a chance.” 

“ No, he wouldn’t. Jack is a friend of mine.” 

“ Yes; but you have taken me from him, and he’d 
take me from you. Men don’t mind about friendship 
when there is a woman in the case. You never thought 
of it!” 

David’s eyes clouded. 

“ You were not bound to Jack, were you? ” j 



SIX DAYS 


1S9 


“No, not really. I said I would marry him in three 
or four years’ time if no one meanwhile made me feel. 

“ And someone has! ” triumphantly. 

“ Yes,” she gasped. He was holding her so tight. 

“ And Jack stood for that? ” 

“ Why, he had to—that or nothing! ” 

“ Then a thousand times I’d rather have nothing 1 ” 

“ Jack says love is devotion.” 

“ And I say love is—action! ” 

And once more he clasped her fiercely in his arms, 
and work was forgotten for a time. 

* * * * * 

David thought of all this as he looked down at La- 
line that next morning—asleep there on the coarse 
pillow! 

Yes, he would rather die, both of them together, 
than that any man should ever take her from him! He 
knew that she loved him utterly—that he was com¬ 
plete lord of her, body and soul. But his peculiar and 
masterful temperament did not value her the less for 
this knowledge. That was his way. Unlike most men, 
he only loved when he could rule, and, however much 
physical charm could have held him for a spell, he never 
would really have given his faith or his tenderness with¬ 
out respect for character. 

When Laline had told him that she would rather 
die with him than live with any other man, then it was 
that the whole force of his emotion went out to her. 
And now each hour had made her more dear, as he 
discovered fresh sweetness hidden away under the 
crust of her stupid upbringing. 

And the last night, after their pretended alterca¬ 
tion, she had been divinely loving and yielding, and he 
had been for her divinely masterful and possessive, and 


140 


SIX DAYS 


they had murmured fondly passionate love sentences 
until towards morning they had fallen asleep. 

And now she lay there, pale and fragile, and in two 
more days, if no help came from outside and he could 
not dig through to safety* he must shoot her and shoot 
himself. For even now cruel pangs of hunger were 
beginning to torture him. And what would happen 
when it came to the last piece of chocolate, the last sip 
of water? 

Would their minds become unbalanced? Would 
they sink to the level of cannibals and want to eat each 
other ? 

Frightful tales he had read when a boy flashed into 
his memory of men shipwrecked and alone in an open 
boat, and of how they ate the cabin boy. 

He was quite aware that his mind was not so under 
his control as it was generally, and that ideas that were 
weird and abnormal would come to him in dreams. 

And what was she suffering—this delicate, exquisite 
girl? She had shown no signs of her pains of hunger 
to him, if she felt them. They must have begun to 
gnaw her, as they had begun to gnaw him. After that 
one burst of coquetterie she had been only sweet and 
submissive, no more teasing or showing the ways of 
her old world. David knew a great deal about the 
working of the subconscious mind. Laline’s subcon¬ 
scious mind was evidently saturated with love for him. 
If they ever emerged into chance of life once more, 
with what passionate devotion and care he would repay 
her for her tenderness! 

Then a thought came. She might have a child— 
his child! This was too glorious, and sent the blood 
coursing through his veins once more, and he bent down 
and kissed her mouth. 


SIX DAYS 


141 


Her eyes unclosed, and before she knew where she 
was they filled with languorous passion for him. 

“ D—-a—vid—I was dreaming that we were on the 
ship again, but under the stars, the last night, when I 
did not see you. The stars held us in the light. Oh! 
how much I love you—dear! ” 

The sentence came brokenly, as though some pent- 
up emotion were escaping. 

Then she turned to him and put her arms round 
his neck, pulling him close. 

“ David, I love thee. Near thee I have no more fear. 
Thy lips on my lips. Thy heart on my heart. I belong 
to thee—I am for thee—thine.” 

Unconsciously, half dreaming, she was translating 
Phsedre’s love words to Andreas, which once she had 
heard a great French actress recite when she came to 
New York. 

And so they remained clasped, without a movement, 
fused in some ecstasy, for a long space. The gold of 
their love was refining in the fire of anguish. 

That day there was something queer about them. 
They told each other fairy tales, weird gnome stories 
which each had read somewhere in childhood. 

David worked like a beaver, and when their lunch 
hour came hope had begun to spring in his heart. He 
really believed that in an hour or two he would reach 
the staircase. Laline had put on an extra spirit of cheer¬ 
fulness. She made speculations as to what the others 
were doing and how soon they would find them. 

“If Fergusson were only with them he’s be sure 
to think of some plan,” David remarked. “ Old Jack’s 
a sweet fellow, but he’s not brilliant.” 

“ And darling auntie is a fool! But there is Celes- 


142 


SIX DAYS 


tine. And, David, don’t you think perhaps the 
peasants may come to search for the priest and see the 
car? Surely the police will have been put on to look 
for us? ” 

“If the car has not been blown up—and, of course, 
it hasn’t—4hey will be bound to find us if we only can 
hang on. You are so awfully plucky, darling, that I 
don’t guess how hungry you are.” 

“I’m not a bit hungry, David. It would be much 
better for you to take my half of the chocolate, because 
you have to work. Don’t you see that’s sense, dear? ” 

David saw it was sense. 

“ I will if it comes to it hindering my digging— 
being so hungry.” 

“ What a strange thing love is, isn’t it ? ” she said 
presently. “If you had told me I could simply violently 
adore someone who had not washed for three days, and 
who was all stubbly, I would have laughed; and yet 
every minute I get to love you more! ” 

“ And I you honey, although you are as exquisite 
as when we started—you wonderful being.” 

“ My nails aren’t so polished, but I have powder 
on my nose. That keeps my self respect.” And she 
picked up her lapis and diamond vanity case and laughed 
softly. She was feeling very weak and nervous. Just 
hunger she did not yet experience. There was no crav¬ 
ing, rather a sick emptiness which loathed the thought of 
food, but such stupid fancies seemed to be coming into 
her head. If she had to be alone for a moment in their 
“ living-room,” as they now called the original dug- 
out, she seemed to see strange faces peering at her from 
the corners. 

“ David,” she asked, when she went back to him at 


SIX DAYS 


143 

his digging, “ could we not have a little more light all 
the time? There are enough candles to last as long 
as we could possibly live, even if we burnt four a day 
—er—it would be nice if it was lighter, wouldn’t it, 
dear? ” 

He guessed of what she was thinking. He had im¬ 
agined he saw a sardonic face laughing at him when 
a huge shower of earth fell, nullifying his last half- 
hour’s efforts. Perhaps she had silly fancies, too. 

“ Darling, by all means light three candles in there. 
And do rest now. Sleep passes the time, and then I 
will come to you with good news presently.” 

“ I hate to leave you working. . . .David, do you 
think we might have a cigarette ? ” He stopped the 
plying of the spade. 

“ I have four in my case. I meant to fill it at Amiens 
—and I was so in love with you I forgot! ” 

“ And I have six in mine,” and she held it up—the 
companion to the lapis box. “ Shall we? ” 

“ Let’s!” 

So he sat on the blue chair, and she sat on his knee. 
Hope was in their hearts. Even with the constant 
falls of earth from above he must be through to the 
staircase in another half-hour. 

The cigarette seemed like whiffs from paradise. 
How soothing! How satisfying! David’s brain seemed 
clear as crystal. 

A ray of light struck the diamond monogram of 
Laline’s case. 

“ Is it not incredible that men go down willingly 
into the earth to find those ? And gold I I don’t think 
that I shall ever want to see anything which comes out 
of a mine again, shall you ? ” 

Laline shuddered. 


144 


SIX DAYS 


“ Never again. It seems that God can only live 
in the sun and the blue sky.” 

“ We must be ordinary, honey. Kiss me. We 
mustn’t let our minds get wild.” 

“ David,” she whispered, a strange passion seizing 
her, and a memory of some former life dwelt in 
her eyes. •- 

“ What does death, or life, or anything else matter? 
I want to be close to you. I do not want anything 
between us.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE LAST DAY OF FOOD 

Late at night on that Saturday David made Laline 
go to rest without him. He knew he must work on 
now while his strength would hold out. So, when he 
had lighted three fresh candles and set them on the 
table, and had tucked her up and kissed her, he returned 
into the further compartment. 

Laline had pretended she was sleepy, not to disturb 
his mind, and had obediently shut her grey eyes before 
he left her. 

She found it often so difficult to keep back tears; she 
could have cried for the slightest thing; but as her 
little body weakened so her spirit grew stronger. 
Never in all the days of her safe, sheltered past had she 
been so sweet and outwardly balanced as she was now, 
half starved and cold and with a horrible death threat¬ 
ening close in front of her. Her one thought was not 
concentrated on life, but what would be the best 
for David. 

She had begun to feel dreadfully hungry at last— 
the sick feeling was developing into a gnawing. She 
found as she lay with her eyes closed that she was 
experiencing a strong temptation to get up and go and 
steal the last square of chocolate, which was propor¬ 
tioned for the morrow (Sunday). It seemed as though 
some force stronger than anything she had known was 
drawing her—drawing her to the cupboard. 

She fought it. A pain began to come in her head 
and she fancied she heard bells ringing. She started 
up into a sitting position and listened and listened, but 

10 145 


146 


SIX DAYS 


it was only the noise of David’s spade. She could not 
see him from there, because he was several feet deep 
in the tunnel he had made. 

She peered into the shadows. What was that queer 
thing which seemed to be crouching there beyoncf the 
sofa? A veritable goblin creature! Her mind went 
to her favourite childhood’s book, George McDonald’s 
“ Princess and the Goblin.” Every chapter, even long 
sentences of the actual words, came back to her. 
Curdie, the hero, had worked in the mines. He almost 
lived half his time in dark places like these. And 
Irene, the princess, had followed a fairy-thread into 
the mountain to release him, when the goblins caught 
him and imprisoned him, and were going to let him 
starve to death. The thread of the wonderful grand¬ 
mother, who was half a fairy, had guided the princess. 
And this old queen had a marvellous lamp also up in 
her tower the light of which could be projected any¬ 
where, and which shone on to people’s paths and brought 
them courage and strength. 

Laline began to think. What if she pretended that 
she could see this lamp? She had read in a casual way 
many books upon mind ruling matter. All sorts of new 
semi-religious ideas were picked up and dropped in the 
set which she used to adorn. Nobody ever practised 
the rules explained nor really absorbed any teaching. 
But a general notion that one could force imagination 
to seem reality if one visualised the desired thing 
strongly enough had stayed in her mind. She would 
lie still and pretend she saw the fairy lamp shining 
into the corner, where one of the goblin creatures 
appeared to be crouching, for she was shivering now 
with some hideous apprehension. She forced herself to 
picture a big automobile flare, and for a few moments 
calmness and serenity came back to her. But her mind 


SIX DAYS 


147 


was not trained to concentrate, and wandered imme¬ 
diately, and then, when she no longer imagined she saw 
the light, terror returned, and the thing seemed to be 
moving spidery legs ready to spring at her. 

Lottie, Princess Irene’s silly nurse, had seen just 
such a creature coming to them when she and the 
princess were out too late on the mountain one evening, 
and fear gave it power over them. She, Laline, must 
have no fear. How did Curdie chase goblin creatures 
and goblins themselves? He sang rhymes to them? 
She could do that—repeat some poetry—for if the ter¬ 
ror went on she might not be able to prevent herself 
from calling David to ask him to chase whatever it was 
away from beyond the sofa. 

She thought of the light again, and again it quieted 
her. If only she could keep on thinking of it! 

But a dreadful possibility flashed into her mind and 
brought fresh disturbance. There was that hole in 
the other compartment going down into the bowels of 
the earth. What if awful animals really did live there, 
and this was one of them which had somehow come up 
and was crouching, waiting to spring upon her! 

Her teeth chattered and the sweat dripped from her 
forehead on to her hand as she clutched the blanket. 

She could not bear it. 

She must repeat a poem. She tried and tried to 
remember one, but nothing would come. 

She must, must, get up and see and meet the crea¬ 
ture. Better that than this agony—this agony which 
was killing her. 

The strongest thing in her nature was still holding 
the base of all her thoughts—love for David. She must 
in no way disturb him, even if she should have to die 
fighting with the beast. 

Her poor little, trembling feet touched the ground 


148 


SIX DAYS 


clad only in their cobweb silk stockings; a hole in the 
big toe of the left foot made the pink, shiny nail gleam. 
She was wrapped in David’s coat to keep out the damp 
cold which numbed all her being. 

The candles were stuck to the table by their grease. 
She did not stop to detach them, but, gathering up all 
her courage, she staggered forward to within two yards 
of the sofa. Another much longer creature now seemed 
to rise up at her. It was moving! How could she 
go on? 

A madness of terror convulsed her, but her will 
held. She took another step, and then she perceived 
with almost an agony of relief that it was only her 
shadow and the shadow of The blue satin chair falling 
in that place, because of the position of the three 
candles which had created goblin creatures and made 
them appear real. No living beast was there to hurt her. 

For a second her self-control broke, and she laughed 
a sharp, sudden laugh. 

David caught the echo of it in his eight-foot tunnel, 
and it seemed the most awful sound his ears had 
ever heard. 

What was it ? Where did it come from ? He threw 
down his spade and rushed back into the living room 
again; but Laline had reached the bunk when he came, 
and was pulling up the blanket over herself. 

“ Oh, David! ” she cried, when she saw his blanched 
face. “ I—I have had the most ridiculous dream! 
Don’t bother about me. It just made me laugh so. 
I’ll tell you about it and make you laugh, too, darling, 
when you come to bed. Go on with your work now. 
What time is it? ” 

She made herself gurgle softly again to disabuse his 
mind of any anxiety for her, and she snuggled down 
beneath the blanket. Some part of David’s mind knew 


SIX DAYS 


U9 


that she was doing a wonderful thing of courage for 
him, even though her words sounded a perfectly natural 
explanation. Tears started to his eyes and his voice 
was hoarse. 

He came over to her and knelt by the bunk. 

“ My love, my little white soul,” he murmured 
brokenly; and then he pulled himself together instantly. 
He must not give way to any emotion to unhinge 
them both. 

He looked at his watch lying on the table. 

“ It is a quarter past three,” he said rather abruptly, 
for the thought came that the fourth and last day of 
food had begun. 

Laline smiled gently at him, and, leaning forward, 
kissed his rough, black, unshaven face. 

He felt that her hair was all wet when she was close 
to him, and he knew that she had been going through 
agonies of fear. Something under his heart seemed 
to grow tight and then heave, and the tears started 
to his eyes again. He controlled himself. He must 
not give way now, when hope was with him. He must 
be nearly through, for even if he had miscalculated the 
actual spot of the staircase, he was still digging in 
loose earth and not an old, solid mass, so if he struck 
upwards he would be bound to come out. 

He bent and tucked Laline up again and kissed 
her tenderly. 

“My darling! My brave, darling wife!” he 
whispered. . 

Then he left her. 

Laline thought of the light, the grandmother’s 
silver moon of radiance when she was alone, and when¬ 
ever she could keep her mind on it peace held her; but 
that was the difficulty. She could not keep her thoughts 
fixed. Concentration upon one mental picture is one 


150 


SIX DAYS 


of the most difficult things at any time, but, with the 
body weakened by hunger and the thoughts unbalanced 
by anaemia of the brain, it becomes almost an impossi¬ 
bility. And weird fancies would make themselves 
listened to. 

Why had they put three candles? Three candles 
meant—death. Celestine was superstitious about them. 
Did these portend that death was certain for her 
and David? 

And what was DEATH? 

Suddenly she began to ask herself what she really 
believed in. Was it the episcopalian orthodox religion 
which it had been so much more chic to belong to in 
her childhood? Had it really meant anything to her 
as a guide for conduct and had its promises of life 
after death carried conviction? She knew, vaguely, 
that it had all been just a form, and that she had never 
considered any of it as a reality. 

But she certainly believed in a God, and angels. 
She had dreamed of angels only last night. And she 
certainly believed in forces of good and evil. 

But what would become of the personalities of her¬ 
self and David, after, perhaps, to-morrow or the 
next day? 

When death claimed their bodies, would their 
spirits be able to see and feel and take joy in nearness? 
Would they be together? Or would David, who was 
so much cleverer than she was, have to go to some other 
grade in heaven, and would they be parted ? 

Here she trembled, and the sweat broke out on her 
forehead again. 

No; cleverness could not matter then. God would 
not judge by that. There was something else much 
mightier. 


SIX DAYS 


151 


She remembered a verse from the Bible she had 
read in one of the books on the new religions she had 
often picked up. 

Wherefore, I say unto thee: Her sins, which 
were many, are forgiven; for she loved much . But to 
whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little” 

Well, she loved much, so she would be forgiven. 
Love was the thing. Love was of God. And so she 
and her lover could never be separated when Death 
struck them. Somehow, even if their hands could not 
feel tangible substance, and their lips could not quiver 
with the intoxication of the sense of union, their souls 
would be fused together in some mystic way which 
would be an even greater joy. 

Yes, of course, love was religion. No; she was 
not afraid to die—-with David. 

She must conquer all fear and nervousness and the 
temptation which was growing stronger and stronger 
to find the chocolate and eat it. And, oh! for a drink 
of water—a great, big drink! 

All that must not be allowed to affect her. She 
must go on thinking of the silver moon, or the sun, 
and of the time when she and her beloved would be 
spirits up in a glorious place untrammelled by anguished 
bodies. She must keep her whole thoughts fixed on 
love, which was God. 

And gradually sleep came to her, and dreams of 
angels, more vivid than any before. Down the shaft 
of the silver moonlight, which yet held the radiance of 
the sun as well, great trains of Shining Ones seemed 
coming to her and holding out their arms, and in her 
ears there was the sound of sweet music and the soft 
fluttering of golden wings. 


152 


SIX DAYS 


David wore no rings. He could not even give his 
at all. The hard work made the blood run in his veins 
and chased away the nervous unbalance he had experi¬ 
enced, and unconsciously his mind began to conjure 
up pictures of food. In some strange way he was 
haunted by the memory of one feast of Lucullus which 
some Harvard friends and he had celebrated at Voisin’s 
when they all chanced to meet in Paris the year before 
the War. The way that the sole was cooked was per¬ 
fectly wonderful! and the selle d’agneau au lait! Whew ! 
And the champagne! And the petits pois a la fran- 
gaise! Without knowing what he was doing, he wiped 
his mouth on his shirt-sleeve, and it was running wet. 

The action brought him to himself, and he began 
to analyse. How material to think of food! He would 
keep his mind on his mission. 

If they got out in a few hours he could still “ carry 
the message to Garcia,” and come up to time. And 
what should he say to Laline? How much could he tell 
her? Not one word, according to his instructions. He 
could only ask her to trust him blindly, and he would 
return after two months. It would be better for no 
one to know of the wedding until he could come and 
claim her. Would she trust him ? 

But of course she would. 

And then they would have to be married over 
again, for there was no proof they could produce of 
any ceremony. 

The priest was dead. There would be only 
their word. 

David wore no rings. He could not even give his 
wife that token. Her wedding-ring was her own. 

Two months was not very long, fortunately. He 
would be back at the end of July. He might go as far 


SIX DAYS 


153 


as telling her to write to the Grand Hotel at Rome, 
so that he could receive it on his return journey. The 
idea of the mission seemed to help to bring into his 
imagination a certainty of getting out. 

He just felt sure that a few more shovelfuls would 
produce some peep of daylight. 

He began to whistle in his eagerness, and the 
strain of the work seemed light. His thoughts wan¬ 
dered again. 

Poor old Jack! It had been quite true what Laline 
had said. Friendship went to the wall when the ques¬ 
tion of a desired woman cropped up. 

Once he would have been quite sure that such a 
temperament as Jack’s would have made any girl ten 
times happier than he should ever be able to. But now 
things were changed. No one could take care of his 
little honey, or worship her, or guard her and give her 
the joy he could. 

He had found a rare thing at last, and his whole 
being was satisfied. 

11 How brave, how devoted, how unselfish she had 
shown herself to be! 

And a wave of adoration swept him as he remem¬ 
bered her little face, wet with the anguish of fear, and 
yet smiling at him as he had settled her to rest just 
now. Oh! the glorious moment when presently he 
could go in and wake her and tell her to hurry up! 

And then he would carry her out to the car and 
give her a sip of his vieille fine. Ah! 

But what was this? His spade struck against the 
end of a log. 

The end of a log. Not the side of one. He dug 
obliquely with frantic energy, his heart beating in his 
throat. Then he came to the end of another. 


154 


SIX DAYS 


This meant that the explosion had forced the sup¬ 
ports of the blocked door outwards. By their angle he 
knew that they must now block not the passage but the 
narrow entrance to the staircase itself. 

And no human being, alone and weak, could dig 
round them through the solid wall of stones and gravel 
and hardened earth of the untouched natural wall 
in time. 

He fell forward on to the heap of mould with a 
strangled, agonised cry: “ Oh! my God! ” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


ANOTHER CHANCE 

When David recovered from his despair a little 
he stood on his feet and told himself that he must 
be a man. 

There was one other chance—the lower excavation 
from which the air came through. 

Some means must be discovered for him to get 
down there and get back. 

That was the difficulty—to get back! 

Perhaps it would have been wiser to have tried this 
plan to begin with, but such speculations and possible 
regrets availed nothing now. His motto for all things 
had always been “ action.” He had better put it into 
practice; so he went over to the hole and pulled the 
short boards away from it, and peered down into the 
depth, but the candle was no use, so he went into the 
other compartment to fetch his torch, which he kept 
carefully in the cupboard. When he had flashed it into 
the hole he saw the gleam of water, perhaps well over 
twenty feet beneath. The rotten ladder did not nearly 
reach it. 

Had the water always been there, or had it come 
since the time before when he had looked? He did not 
remember seeing any, and the air seemed fresher and 
damper and colder. All this proved that there must 
be some opening up into the next dug-out, and so to 
the outer world. 

He must know how deep the water was. He threw 
a stone, and by the splash and the bubbles he gathered 
that there could only be about six inches of it. 


155 


156 SIX DAYS 

Perhaps it had rained outside, and this had run in 
from above ? 

The water did not matter. It was welcome, indeed. 
He had often stood in slime and slush and mud up to 
his knees in the War. Six inches of water was a trifle. 

The question was, how was he to get back from 
there? That was the whole point. Anyone could 
climb down, with a rope of the blanket and rug, but if 
they would not be long enough, how was he to reach 
them for his return journey to fetch Laline, which he 
must do should he discover that there was a way out 
from the adjoining excavation beyond, from where the 
air came? And, in any case, even if he found things 
hopeless, he must return to her; he could not leave her 
to die all alone; he must be with her to the end, whether 
it was death from starvation or shooting. 

He calculated how long he could make a rope of the 
blanket and the rug—both wretched old things which 
it would be unsafe to split, as they then would not 
bear his and Laline’s combined weight, when he should 
have to swing down with her, if such a feat could be 
accomplished in her weakened state and his own. 

By taking up the stuff with the knots to join them 
he calculated the two pieces tied on the bias might make 
ten feet. Eighteen inches of this would be required to 
attach it firmly to the board across the hole. That left 
eight foot six. He was over six foot one himself; he 
could easily drop the rest of the distance whatever 
it was. But supposing it was greater than he calculated, 
there would then be no certainty of his being able 
to return. 

The only certainty would be for the improvised 
rope to be so long that he could jump and catch it again 
and pull himself up by it. He could not chance the 
length of only the two pieces. He must add his coat 


SIX DAYS 157 

as well. This would mean that he must rob Laline 
of all covering from the cold. 

The chance of any good coming of the plan lay in 
whether or no the ladder up to the other dug-out was 
in any possible condition for him to climb it, otherwise 
he might get down and find salvation above him out 
of his reach. 

Then he would have to return, and when the last 
piece of chocolate was gone he would have to recon¬ 
sider matters. 

The longer they could hang out the more chance 
for Jack to find them, only, when all seemed hopeless, 
he must not hesitate, he must accept the horror of shoot¬ 
ing them both as the lesser evil to face. 

He paused for a moment and thought and thought, 
but his brain was numb, though at last a further idea 
came. Were the uprights of the ladder in any con¬ 
dition, even if the rungs had crumbled? If so, he 
could easily swarm down them. 

He tugged, and one came away from the side in his 
hand. It was matchwood, and fell to pieces as he 
touched it. No part of the ladder would be of any 
use. He let it slip down into the water. It would 
not have held a cat. 

The opening to the lower dug-out was about three 
feet square. He would have to go down by the impro¬ 
vised rope. 

But what if after all there should be a firm enough 
ladder in the other compartment! 

The thought sent the blood rushing along in his 
veins again. Hope was not quite dead. 

He crept softly back to the table by the bunk to look 
at his watch. It was past five o’clock. Then he bent 
over Laline and started back in horrible fear. 

Her transparent white hands were folded on her 


158 


SIX DAYS 


breast, and for a frightful moment he thought she 
must be dead, she was so pale. 

Her lips wore a tender smile. She seemed in the 
midst of an ambience not of earth. 

He bent nearer and touched her forehead. No, she 
was not dead; it was damp and warm, and now he could 
feel the faint breath coming from her parted lips. 

He drew back. She was sleeping peacefully. Must 
he wake her ? Or might it not be better for him to take 
a few hours’ sleep himself, before beginning the 
new venture? 

He went to the cupboard, and looked at the re¬ 
sources still left to them. There were, first of all, 
not too many candles. They were of a guttery kind, 
and Laline had been rather lavish with them in the last 
night and day. There were only ten left out of the 
three dozen, besides those in the altar candlestick. The 
pooled cigarettes amounted to six. They had smoked 
two each since the time they had remembered they had 
them. Then there were the two squares of chocolate, 
the portion for the morrow—Sunday. And there was 
about one tumblerful more of water in the pitcher. 
They had, perhaps, been reckless with it, too, and yet 
he had suffered greatly from thirst when at his work. 

The situation was this. 

It had two possibilities. When he had made the 
ropes, with the addition of his coat, long enough for 
him to go down and back—and he might find a way 
out for them both through the other dug-out—then all 
would be well. Or, failing that, he might come back 
and lower Laline down with him when he went again, 
on chance that their combined shouts up whatever 
passage the air was coming from might attract some 
attention, if, somehow, the car was found, and Jack 
might be looking for any trace of them. 


SIX DAYS 


159 


He would have to make a decision soon, but an 
unaccountable drowsiness was overtaking him. He 
shivered a little; he had been so very hot from his work, 
and now the chill, damp air from below struck him. 

He felt overcome. He must sleep for an hour or 
so. Sleep restored like food. 

So he crept back to Laline in the bunk and lay 
down beside her, after extinguishing two of the candles. 

She awakened when she felt that he was near, and, 
with a sigh of fondest love, slipped into his tired arms. 

“ David,” she whispered, “ the angels will come for 
us whether it is to take us to them or back to the earth 
again. I have no more fear.” 

He clasped her close to him. He would tell her 
nothing now of what had happened. For a few more 
hours they might sleep in peace. 

But before oblivion claimed him he thought a little 
more, they could eat the candles, if they must. The 
longer they could hold out, the greater the chance for 
the car to be found, because no country could be so 
entirely desolate as that no one would pass that way 
for weeks, and surely the peasants of Oieul would get 
anxious and come to search for the priest. 

Yes, it might be wiser to postpone the thought 
of ending misery with his revolver until every chance 
was gone and he should actually see Laline dying by 
inches before his eyes. 

And now she was in his arms, held to him, and the 
warmth of their two bodies and the human magnetism 
in them brought a sense of well-being which presently 
would dull anxiety and let them sink into dreamland. 

Oh, blessed sleep! 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE FIGHT WITH DEATH 

Laline woke first this Sunday. It was nearly mid¬ 
night of the fourth day of their incarceration. They 
had been oblivious to all things for many hours, in the 
heavy sleep of exhaustion. She lifted her golden head 
from David’s breast, and very gently, with her small 
forefinger, she felt the black bristles of his chin 
and cheeks. 

For some reason this had power to bring life into 
her. They seemed so real! So very much as though 
David and she were living beings. A man with a 
strong growth of black beard couldn’t be a spirit, and 
if she could feel with her finger, and the sensation could 
produce a thrill in her, she could not be a spirit either. 
Spirits could not have physical thrills. 

On her first moment of awakening in the sick agony 
of her body’s emptiness and giddiness, she had won¬ 
dered if they were dead, and this was Purgatory they 
were perhaps passing through ? 

But no, they were alive, David was there, and he 
was her husband. 

He was so exhausted that he never woke with all 
her gentle touching, so she could gaze and gaze at him, 
in the light of the one candle, now only half an inch 
high; he had put a fresh one about seven that morning, 
when he had chanced to wake, and it had burnt thus low. 

Her head was light. It seemed to be very large, 
stretched out as big as one of the heads at a carnival, 
and full of air. Was it a balloon? 

She felt it suddenly. No, it was her own—just the 
same shape as usual. Then she reasoned with herself. 

160 


SIX DAYS 


161 


“ You are becoming silly, Laline Lamont, because 
you have not had enough to eat.” She began to kiss 
David’s eyelids and caress his black face with her soft 
cheek. The scratchy feeling was delicious—so real— 
so real! 

She touched his hair, and his eyebrows, and the 
lobes of his ears, all as though she were counting mar¬ 
vellous possessions. 

“ And all that is mine, Molly,” she said aloud, 
addressing her school friend whom she thought she 
saw beside her. “ Your Marquis can’t compare to my 
David! ” “ Fancy anyone wanting to be a nun,” she 

went on, still talking to Molly. “ I would not be good 
at all, or anything, if David wanted something else. 
There are no people in the world, or in heaven or in 
earth, only David.” 

She was quivering now from head to foot. Some 
fire seemed to be in her brain. Her grey eyes were 
dark with passion—or was it fever? She felt as if 
her body was on a rack, and her head spinning, but 
that all was merged in one passionate desire to wake 
her darling, to feel his kisses, to know that she and he 
were living still—and loved—and loved. 

The magnetism of her thoughts woke David at last, 
and he started up fiercely. He had been dreaming, in 
that instant near to waking, that he had gone down 
the blanket rope to the lower dug-out, and could not 
get back again, and he had heard her voice calling him, 
and he knew he could not reach her because an unknown 
beast was strangling him. The sweat started to his 
forehead, and he struggled, and threw Laline from him 
roughly, so that her head hit the side of the mud wall. 

Then he awakened quite and saw her lying there 
looking at him, tears gathering in her lashes. And 
in anguish he bent over her. 
n 


SIX DAYS 


162 


“ My honey, my sweetheart, I was dreaming a 
terrible dream. Did I hurt you, my own? ” 

Laline was crying now. Passionate sobs shook her, 
and the tears poured from her eyes. He had thrown 
her away; he did not.love her any more! 

He clasped her to him and kissed, and kissed the 
place where her head had struck the wall. She was 
not hurt, or even bruised, but the tears were relieving 
some strain. The sobs grew automatic at last, and 
a sense of alleviation was suffusing her, but she did not 
speak. David was distracted. A thousand times he 
would rather have died than have hurt her. 

“ My wee baby honey,” he murmured in a broken 
voice, fondly caressing her and clasping her limp, frag¬ 
ile body to him. “ Won’t you forgive your brute? ” 

His voice brought her to herself. Molly seemed 
to have gone. They were alone, and she was happy. 

“ Everything,” she cooed. “ I forgive my David 
everything! I like him to beat me, then I know that 
I am his! ” 

The primitive atavistic instinct emerging through 
the tutored modern American belief in the superiority 
of woman over man struck David and interested him, 
even though his wits were dulled by hunger and exhaus¬ 
tion. He realised that all the camouflage of a lifetime 
was falling from Laline and the precious little body 
he was holding to his heart contained a spirit freed 
from shame. Whatever she should express now 
gave proof of the real personality. And it seemed 
to be one of all golden sweetness and tender trust 
and worship. 

How was he going to tell her that he had failed, 
and that the hope of digging through to the staircase 
must be abandoned! 


SIX DAYS 


163 


How was he going to have the courage to ask her to 
give up his coat, and the blanket, and the rug? 

Would the pillow-case and his shirt, tied together, 
be strong enough to use instead of his coat ? Otherwise 
she might die of cold, before he could take her out, 
should he find the way. 

There was no use in delay now. Strength would 
be ’ebbing, and it were better to know the best or the 
worst which awaited them at once, but he would give 
her a little breakfast to begin with. 

It might be wiser to divide the last daily portion 
of one square of chocolate each into three portions 
now, because when that was gone, there would be 
nothing but the candles left for them to eat, and they 
were not pure wax, and would be very unsuitable food. 
The six cigarettes were also there—only this much 
to smoke, to keep life in them—if he should decide, 
after he had been down to the lower dug-out, that it 
would be any use for them to wait longer. 

He had never let Laline see his revolver. She must 
have no extra anguishes to bear. She seemed so satis¬ 
fied now, there in his arms, as if she wanted nothing 
more on earth—as, indeed, she did not for the moment, 
her tears having brought her such relief. To lie clasped 
close to David was always heaven! 

But there was no time to be wasted. 

“ Darling,” he whispered, making his voice sound 
as buoyant and cheerful as he could, “ I’ve thought of 
another splendid plan—I can’t think why it did not 
come to me before — and that is, if you will let me take 
the blanket and the rug and the pillow-case and tie 
them together ”—he said nothing about his coat, so as 
not agitate her and make her want to give it up—” I 


164 


SIX DAYS 


can then easily swing down to the excavation below, 
where the air comes from, and find the way out.” 

She gave a short cry and clung to him. 

“ You’ll take me, too, then, David. I won’t be left 
alone. If you do not, I will jump down after you.” 

“ No, honey, you will not,” he answered, a little 
sternly. “You must obey me, and show me that you 
are just the bravest darling a man ever had to rely upon. 
You will come now when you are dressed and help me, 
and you will see for yourself it is quite safe, and I can 
return to you when I have investigated.” 

The firmness of his tones quieted her fears. She 
was almost past using the deliberate control of herself 
which she had exercised when terrified by the imaginary 
goblin creatures. It was the primitive Laline answering 
to her master, and she was sweet and gentle enough, 
surely. Perhaps those angels which had been such vivid 
realities to her last night were truly there and were 
guiding her. She did not protest further, but let David 
lift her from the bed and find her shoes for her. This 
was his daily and nightly task of joy—to put on and 
take off her tiny grey suede slippers and kiss the 
cold little feet. 

He teased her about her big toe showing through 
the hole, to hearten her up, and kissed it especially, and 
it tickled her and made her laugh, so that they became 
quite gay. 

Then he fetched the chocolate and divided it care¬ 
fully with his knife. 

“ Only a very small breakfast this morning, sweet¬ 
heart,” he said, smiling. “ But think of the feast we 
will have. We’ll eat the whole lot when I come back! ” 

Even this minute piece of the sweetstuff and the 
sip of water brought some comfort. Both their minds 
became more normal, and, while Laline finished her 


SIX DAYS 


165 


toilet, David went on to the opening in the floor, carry¬ 
ing his clothes with him, and then he began to make 
his plans for descending. His torch showed that the 
water had risen perhaps an inch or two. He threw 
a stone. No; it was nothing still to speak of. He 
would tie the available stuffs together and let them 
down, and judge the distance so that they might be 
long enough for him to catch them again for the return. 
He had brought the rug and blanket and pillow-case 
with him. The rug seemed very rotten. He pulled it 
hard and it tore in halves. He tried to join it, and 
it came to pieces in his hands. At least four feet of 
hope had now been taken from him! 

He would have to give his grey flannel trousers as 
well as his shirt, and would be reduced to working in 
his underthings; and if these additions would not make 
the length right, then he would have to ask for Laline’s 
silk jersey frock—that would surely hold and be 
springy. His coat she must keep at all costs or she 
might collapse from exposure. He took the trousers 
and fastened all together and put the improvised rope 
through the hole. Allowing the eighteen inches, which 
would be required to make a firm enough knot to tie it 
to the board from which it would swing, it was not 
long enough. He would have to jump five feet straight 
in the air to catch the end again from below, and he 
doubted if by now his strength was sufficient for that. 

He must have Laline’s frock ; there was nothing else 
for it. 

“ David! ” she cried a little wildly, when she caught 
sight of him coming towards her in his underclothing. 

“ Dearest, what is it? ” 

He laughed boyishly. He did, indeed, look quaint 
with his unshaven face, well-combed hair, and just his 
cobwebby under-things. 


166 


SIX DAYS 


“ I’ve had to turn the rest of my garments into a 
rope, darling, and now I have come to ask for your 
frock. It seems a darned shame to take that lovely 
blue silk thing from you, though! ” 

Laline had got it on by now, and was standing 
there in it. Her little face, as ethereal as an angel’s, 
her slender figure shrunk from emaciation, and all her 
gold curls hanging down her back, she might have 
been a child of twelve years. 

David was laughing, so she must laugh too! 

“What fun!” she cried with pathetic gaiety— 
and began at once to pull the woven garment over her 
head again. 

They measured it. Dragged to its full length, it 
would make five feet from the ends of the long sleeves 
to the bottom of the skirt. 

This was splendid! 

Then David made her put on his coat over her little 
crepe de Chine scanty under-garments, and she looked 
like some lovely little figure in a comic opera, as she 
stood there waiting for him to tell her what to do next. 
He took her into the further compartment, and when 
she saw the tunnel, seemingly going in so far, a sus¬ 
picious look came into her face. 

“ David—did you find—it—it—was an impossibil¬ 
ity.” And she pointed to the entrance, where the big 
mound of earth was. “ And is that why you are going 
to try this other plan now ? And if it fails ? ” 

He did not speak. He could not. He just folded 
her in his arms. 

She seemed to become deadly cold, and her breath 
came quickly. 

“ I’m—I’m—not afraid, David—we’ll go to sleep 
together.” 

He could not keep back the tears from his splendid 


SIX DAYS 


167 


black eyes. She had touched something high up in 
his soul. 

“ God’s going to help us not to fail,” he whis¬ 
pered hoarsely. 

Then he set her down and began to work. The 
^arms of the jersey made a fine strong knot round the 
board over the hole, and the rope dangled in space. He 
fastened his torch and his revolver round his neck with 
Laline’s silken belt. He saw her glance strainedly at 
the weapon, but she said nothing, and then he turned 
to her, and his face was solemn. 

“ Heart of mine ”—his voice was deep—“ now you 
must show me the strongest side of yourself. I believe 
everything will be all right, but if by any off-chance 
the rope should break—and I can’t get back—then you 
must collect the candles and everything we’ve left and 
throw them down to me, and you must lower yourself 
as far as the rope goes, and drop, and I will catch you— 
because, however it goes, we must be together.” 

“ Yes, David.” 

“ Honey, you must not be frightened at being alone 
while I go on and into the other compartment, where 
the opening must be. You see—it’s our last chance.” 

Her face was white as death now, and her grey 
eyes were filled with an agony. 

“ No David—I won’t—be frightened.” She stag¬ 
gered a little. He thought she was going to fall, and 
held out his arms to her. His touch unnerved her, and 
with short gasps she whispered: “ Take me down now 
—let us face it together. Let’s take the things—and 
if it isn’t—and there’s—nothing—then—shoot us! ” 

They clung together shivering. 

But David was firm. If he could get back, and 
there was something to be done which would require 
waiting, for her—it was better for her to wait in the 


168 


SIX DAYS 


dry top storey than down below in the water. He must 
go alone first, then if he could not get back, or anything 
happened to him, she must come after him. 

“ Hold the candle down the opening while I go, 
darling, and if anything breaks come straight after me. 
You’ve climbed ropes in the gymnasium, haven’t you? ” 

She controlled herself. 

“ Yes; when I was a kiddie.” 

He kissed her reverently, her cold lips clung to his, 
but neither spoke. 

Then David began to descend, and the little brave 
heart up above watched him, holding the candle as low 
as she could because the solid floor between the excava¬ 
tions was a good four feet thick and the hole went 
through it. It only took him a moment or two, and he 
dropped into the water safely, and gave a shout 
of gladness. 

“ It’s fine, honey! It is not above my ankles. I’ll 
whistle as I go on, so you’ll know I’m all right,” and, 
splashing and whistling “ The Love Nest,” David 
turned on his torch, and cautiously made his way, step 
by step, in the direction of what must be the adjoin¬ 
ing dug-out. 

Left alone, Laline had a terrible fight with herself. 
The blood seemed surging in her head so strongly that 
she could not be sure if she really heard David whistling. 

He had lighted two candles and stuck them on the 
floor near her, so that she was not in darkness. But 
the horror of everything—the hideous terror! 

She peeped through the hole again, and swayed the 
candle she held in her hand. She caught sight of the 
gleam on the water. 

It seemed to her now distorted imagination to be a 
lake in the internal regions. What lake?—or was it a 
river in Greek mythology —the Styx—and did not a 


SIX DAYS 


169 


boatman row the souls across—to Hades—or was its 
name Erebus? And was it a lake after all? 

Her heart beat to suffocation. Something must be 
done or she would jump through the hole. She rose to 
her feet and staggered into the inner living room, and 
there she went over to the altar, which was just as the 
priest had left it after their marriage. Only the crucifix 
was gone; it lay over his grave. She lighted all the 
seven candles in the branch, and then she knelt down. 

She could remember nothing, for a while, but at last 
a shuddering sigh came, with the words: 

“ Oh! Christ—hear us! ” 

Then she fainted. 


CHAPTER XX. 


DAYLIGHT 

It took David only a few moments to splash 
through the water, still whistling, to an opening in the 
further wall. It was about four feet higher than the 
level of where he was, and the edge of it was lowered 
at one side, where the rain had run out for three years. 
He pulled himself up by the support of the doorway. 
It was not until afterwards that he remembered how the 
impulse to leap had not come to him, and what a strain 
it had been to climb even with the aid of the wood to 
pull against. His whole consciousness was set upon the 
chance of finding some outlet in the room beyond, and, 
when he could peer into it, he became aware that a 
faint light was coming through from a hole in the 
roof, and he could see the beginning rungs of a ladder. 

A mad joy filled him. Daylight, blessed daylight! 
Were they saved, after all? Could he go back to his 
darling, and again climb down the rope, this time with 
her, to safety. 

“ Thank God! thank God! ” he cried, ecstatically, 
and rushed forward. 

The ladder looked quite all right. Oh! if it should 
bear him—bear them both! 

The rain which had trickled in from time to time 
during the three years had made a little gully for itself, 
so that its stream drained off by the door to the other 
level; thus the rest of the floor was dry. 

He flashed the torch about. There was a heap of 
old tins and one or two rusty bayonets in one corner 
and a broken wooden case, which had been used as a 

170 


SIX DAYS 


171 


table. Otherwise the space was empty. No; on the 
floor there were scattered some dingy playing cards, 
and three lay face downwards on the box. 

Thought is SO' instantaneous that these details struck 
David during the time it took him to cross the floor 
to the ladder. He put his torch at the edge of the case, 
its light turned floorwards, and, standing under the 
opening, the daylight from above seemed to come in 
more strongly. 

He could see that the ladder appeared to be firmly 
fastened to the top with iron hooks. 

His heart was beating so fast by now, and the 
blood was surging so in his head that for a moment 
he trembled too greatly to do anything, then he felt the 
first rung of the ladder with his foot; it broke off. He 
tried the next, with the same result. Then he shook 
the whole thing, and, with a rattle, the remaining rungs 
fell from it to the floor. 

In despair, he pulled at the uprights, and they, too, 
gave way and came down with a crash, almost on 
his head. 

In his agony of disappointment and despair he gave 
a strangled cry that might have come from some animal 
at bay, and then he staggered towards the case and 
sat on it, trying to think. 

Nothing would come to his starved brain but the 
realisation that three playing-cards showing their backs 
lay there beside him, and that the ace of spades and the 
very dirty face of the knave of clubs were staring at 
him from the floor, the light of the torch shining full 
on them. 

“ Cursed black things? ” he mumbled inarticulately; 
and he shook his fist at them. 

But he must think—think. 


m 


SIX DAYS 


What possible plan could he invent to reach the 
opening above, where salvation lay? 

Why could he not get his brain to act ? He pressed 
his hand to his head. 

If he had only come down on the first day he would 
have been strong enough to have dug a staircase out of 
the side wall and pierced a hole to what he could calcu¬ 
late with certainty was the floor above. But now that 
task would be a sheer physical impossibility. What— 
what could be done? 

He sat for what seemed a long time thinking— 
devising. Gradually, the great excitement that he had 
been in subsided, and his mind became clear, and the 
plan he formulated was this: 

He must go back, and pull himself up the impro¬ 
vised rope to Laline. Then he must collect all their 
household goods at the edge of the hole—candles, 
spades, chair, pitcher, and the rest of the few things. 
Then he must throw all the bigger ones down, and load 
up the pockets of his coat, which Laline wore, with 
the lighter articles. And when all was ready he must 
lower himself again, and then Laline must untie the 
rope below her dress, and let it fall, and then she must 
come through the hole, and hang on to the end of the 
few feet of silken jersey, and drop, and he would catch 
her. It was a desperate chance in their terribly weak¬ 
ened state, and both would probably roll in the water. 
But it was the only one. 

He would have to give up his under-garments, and 
with them make up the loss in length of the jersey 
frock. Then when they were tied he would have to 
splice two, or even three, of the spades and bayonets 
together, with strips of Laline’s chemise, and finally he 
would have to stand on the case and endeavour to throw 
this bar, with the rope tied to it, up through the opening 


SIX DAYS 


173 


to the daylight. And if he were only strong enough 
to get it through it might fall across the hole and there 
would be the possibility again of climbing to safety. 

He started to his feet joyously. Surely God would 
in some way help them now and give him force to 
carry out this plan. He went over to the heap of 
bayonets and old tins, and counted them; there were 
four—very rusty, but glorious riches! There was also 
an iron bar quite five feet long lying under the tins. 
So he need do no splicing. The floor, too, was four 
feet higher than the one in the next compartment, so 
his vest would make the rope long enough, and they 
could stand on the wooden case to start from. Yes, it 
all seemed possible and too splendid. He must not 
delay a moment more; he must go and let Laline know 
about things. 

So he turned to splash back to the rope, but the 
temptation to stop and drink overwhelmed him, and 
he bent and scooped up handfuls of the muddy water 
and drank as though it were the finest champagne! 
Then he strode forward joyously, and gave a mighty 
shout with upturned face to the opening. 

But silence greeted him. 

It was at that very moment that Laline had fainted. 
For all these cogitations of David’s had not taken very 
long in reality. He shouted and shouted again, fright¬ 
ful fear in his heart. 

Why did she not answer ? 

What had happened in these few minutes? He 
could not have been gone a quarter of an.hour. Was 
she dead ? God! What agony! 

“Laline, Laline!” he shrieked in despair, and then, 
with frantic energy, he began to climb up the rope. He 
got to the first knot of the join to the next garment, and 


174 


SIX DAYS 


then all strength left his arms, and he slipped back into 
the water. 

Once more the strangled cry of a wild animal at bay 
rent the air, and then a sob. 

"Oh, God! Oh, God, help me.” 

Not a sound came from above. 

If only he could manage to get beyond the first knot 
and rest, hanging to it, before trying the second one. 
He must make a fresh effort. The cold shock of the 
water had revived him. He controlled himself and 
made his nerves grow quiet. Then once more he essayed 
the difficult task of mounting. 

He was, fortunately, a wonderful athlete, and all his 
training served in helping* to bolster up his waning 
strength. He had never imagined such an easy thing to 
him as climbing a rope would present any difficulty. He 
started again, got to the first knot this time, and held to 
it. But the second one was a greater distance off ; and 
how would it be when he came to the long blanket and 
the jersey frock? 

He panted terribly, but he clung on, and so he 
reached the blanket beyond his trousers. Here his knees 
seemed to lose grip, and the strain on his arms and his 
heart was awful, but he thought he heard a moan from 
above, the faint sound of his name: 

“D—avid—” 

Laline was calling him. She was in pain—in danger. 
The agony of it spurred his failing strength to one fresh 
spurt, and so at length he pulled himself through the 
opening, and, rolling over, fell unconscious on the 
earthen floor. 

Laline stirred in the inner compartment as she lay 
there before the altar. Her senses were slowly return¬ 
ing to her in some sick, uncertain way. 

She sat up feebly. Had she heard someone shout- 


SIX DAYS 


175 


ing ? Where was she ? And then the blood ran in her 
veins again, and her memory came back. Had help 
come ? And was that what the noise had meant ? 

She staggered to her feet and tried to collect her 
senses. 

David had climbed down below and he had whistled 
—she remembered that. But all was silence now. She 
tottered into the other compartment, and there, in the 
light of the two candles, she saw her darling’s long form 
lying prone at the edge of the gaping hole, one arm 
hanging down into it. 

She shrieked in agony and threw herself beside him. 

“David, David! My beloved!” And she kissed 
him and kissed him despairingly and tried to hold him 
to her. But the head fell a lead weight on her breast. 
It could not be that he was dead. Oh, God! In her 
anguish for her loved one all feebleness was forgotten; 
her spirit had risen beyond the flesh. She laid his dark 
head down upon the ground again. His eyes were 
closed, and the heavy, inky lashes rested upon blue 
shadows, and the part of his face uncovered by a growth 
of black beard looked a greenish olive in the flicker¬ 
ing light. 

Laline got somehow to her feet and went back into 
the living room. She was controlling herself now. She 
searched and found the remaining chocolate and the 
cigarettes and the last glass of water, and she brought 
them to where David lay. Then she returned and 
fetched the altar candlestick, with its seven flaming 
lights, and put it on the floor near him. 

She took his wrist and felt his pulse. There was an 
almost imperceptible beat. 

He was not dead, thank God! 

She put the glass of water to his lips, and a little 
stream ran into his mouth. 


176 


SIX DAYS 


Then she lit a cigarette and puffed the smoke in his 
face. His eyelids quivered. 

With frantic eagerness she now broke off a corner 
of the chocolate and forced it between his teeth. He 
was reviving, and, not conscious of what he was doing, 
he swallowed the chocolate eagerly. 

Then Laline fed him with it all—both their portions 
for the remaining time they could possibly live. Not 
one thought of self held her. She was ruled by the one 
passionate urge—to save him, her adored one. 

David was recovering rapidly. He had unknowingly 
devoured the sweet stuff’ ravenously, and now he raised 
himself, and consciousness came back to him, and with 
it some terrible prehension of what he had done. 

He saw the little figure kneeling beside him, with 
ethereal face and burning eyes looking at him through 
the smoke and the mist of her hanging golden hair, and 
he tasted the chocolate in his mouth. Then he cried 
aloud in anguish, full realization coming to him. 

“Laline, Laline, what have you done ?” And, with a 
great sob, he covered his face with his ? hands. Knowl¬ 
edge of her sacrifice broke his self-control, and he shed 
bitter tears. 

She soothed and comforted him like a mother with 
a child. 

“My darling, my David, you mustn’t—you mustn’t 
cry.” 

“Oh, my God, Laline! You angel—you divine little 
honey—and I have taken your last chance of food.” 
And he rocked himself to and fro. “Oh, the brute beast 
that lam!” 

Laline felt exalted. It seemed as though nothing 
mattered now that she saw David sitting up and strong 
again. A faint color came into her waxen cheeks. 

It is much better like this, darling,” she told him, 


SIX DAYS 


m 


“because now you will be stronger and able to save us 
both. I—I’m not a bit hungry, and this cigarette was 
so good.” Then she laughed softly and kissed him 
again and again. 

David pulled himself together. There was truth in 
her words, and no time must be lost in remorse or use¬ 
less grieving. Action was the thing while the new 
strength was in him. 

“Darling child, you are too noble and good.” His 
voice broke again in a sob. “And now we have the 
hardest task in front of us. But there is daylight at 
the end of it.” Laline’s eyes glowed. 

“The other dug-out leads to the upper air, but, like 
this one, the ladder is all rotten and has fallen away. I 
have devised a plan, though, which, if we can carry it 
out, will certainly save us. So we must have courage, 
my sweetheart. You will need all yours.” 

Then he explained all the details to her—of how she 
would have to drop into his arms, he standing in the 
water below, after.she had untied the rope from the end 
of her blue silk jersey dress. 

He saw the pupils of her grey eyes dilate as he said 
this, and for a second she shuddered and nervously 
clasped her hands. 

He knew that he must not unnerve her by showing 
that he noticed anything. There was not a moment to 
be lost. 

Together they went back into the living-room and 
collected the few things. Alas! No food now, and 
only the five cigarettes. 

They stowed the lapis boxes and, the matches in the 
pockets of David's coat. Then they took the pitcher 
and the bed pillow and deposited them next the hole, 
and then David moved the chair. 


12 


178 


SIX DAYS 


“Mammy Muff” should take her chance through 
the opening. 

David remembered everything, even the book of 
prayers. 

Then they blew out the seven candles and threw the 
candlestick down—and they heard it splash in the water. 
They only kept alight one burning end, which David had 
scraped off the table. The table itself was too big to 
get through, and it must be left behind, the sofa also. 
Then it was “Mammy Muff’s” turn to disappear. As 
David pushed her through, Laline ran back into the dark 
and left him. He cried to her, and, seizing the candle- 
end, ran after her. 

She had gone to the bunk and flung herself on her 
knees and was kissing passionately the wooden side. 

“Good-bye,” she cried a little hysterically. “We can 
never be happier in Heaven than we have been here!” 

Then, with rapt face, she let David lead her back to 
the hole. 


CHAPTER XXL 


A TERRIBLE ORDEAL 

Before David began to swing himself below he 
turned to Laline and explained exactly what she would 
have to do. He saw that she was controlling herself 
with all her might and main. 

He tied the bundle of candles round his waist with 
the silken belt, as well as his torch and revolver. She 
should have light at least to go down into. Then, see¬ 
ing that the pockets of his coat which she still wore were 
filled with all the little things, he clasped her in his arms. 

“1 am sure it is going to come out all right, darling,” 
he said, making his voice sound cheerful. “And even 
if we can’t get out the other side, we have a chance by 
shouting up for help to where the daylight comes from.” 

He was feeling so intensely that he feared to give 
way to any emotion. 

Laline was praying silently, and did not speak— 
praying for nerve not to falter when she was left 
alone —praying for strength of fingers to untie the knot 
which fastened the silk jersey to the blankets—praying 
for courage to drop into the space which seemed so 
terribly vast before David could catch her. 

He thought about the knot. 

“Honey, the only thing which troubles me is that 
my weight will have pulled the fastenings awfully tight 
between the two things. You must use my pocket- 
knife if you can’t get it undone. The jersey comes well 
through the hole. You, hanging, will be quite five foot 
eight or ten. I am six foot one, so your jump will not 
be so very long; but, all the same, I can’t bear to leave 
you alone up here, even for these minutes.” 


179 


180 


SIX DAYS 


They embraced fondly, and David went down 
through the opening and arrived safely at the bottom, 
where he set up the candlestick, which was, fortunately, 
only bent, not broken by its fall and he put two of the 
candles into it and lighted them. Then he placed the 
candlestick some feet away. It stuck up there, the water 
•only up to its branches, and the light made a queer, 
quivering reflection. Then he went on and deposited the 
other things in safety in the dry compartment beyond, 
so that he should be unencumbered when he must catch 
Laline as she let go the rope. 

The blue satin chair had fallen on its side and was 
unhurt; it seemed a heavy burden to lift. 

He called up to Laline. 

“Now throw me the pillow, darling, and then the 
pitcher, and the book of prayers.” 

She leant over and dropped each thing as he had 
said. He caught them all and carried them to safety. 
And then he came back and stretched out his arms. 

But panic was suddenly seizing Laline. She could 
not face the descent. 

She kept herself from screaming, that was all she 
could do, but the mad beating of her heart seemed to 
produce suffocation. Her poor little body shook like a 
leaf in the wind. 

She ran up and'down, up and down the compart¬ 
ment. She went quite mad for some moments. Then 
she heard David’s voice calling. 

“Laline, Laline, aren’t you coming, honey?” 

She stood still. 

“David!” and there was a sharp gasp of fear in 
the tone. 

He understood, and his voice grew calm and quiet. 

“Courage, brave heart.” 

It steadied her. 


SIX DAYS 


181 


She must think of the angels and that wonderful 
grandmother’s moon which had so comforted her 
before. 

She made herself approach the hole; she was almost 
exhausted, but she forced her, thoughts to visualise the 
glorious light which she had made a picture of in her 
imagination since her early childhood—Irene’sogrand- 
mother’s lamp. 

“I am coming, David.” 

He answered cheering words now, and began to 
whistle gaily one of the jazz tunes she loved. 

She drew up the rope and tried to untie the knot. 
It was very difficult, as there was no force in her en¬ 
feebled little fingers, but with the aid of the knife she 
got it undone at last, it seemed after endless moments. 
Then she bent over the aperture and peered into what 
seemed the gaping abyss, and she threw the severed 
portion to David; he caught it, and called: 

“Make a knot at the end of the dress, darling, and if 
your hands slip they will come to it.” And he carried 
the rope into safety throwing it through the dry com¬ 
partment’s door. 

Laline’s very arms trembled, but she obeyed him, 
and then called to him, “David are you ready?” 

“Yes, honey!” She grasped the silken rope and 
plucked all her courage together and slipped over the 
side of the hole. 

The jerk was such that in her weakness she let go at 
once, when she hung dangling. 

It was a moment of frightful anxiety to David, 
watching her, but he caught her' in his arms, though the 
impact caused just what he had feared it would do with 
his strength gone—they both fell flat in the muddy 
water. 

He struggled up and lifted her; tenderly. She was 


182 


SIX DAYS 


shaken and probably bruised, but no grave hurt had 
resulted. Only she was all wet and shivering. 

He carried her through the remaining space and 
deposited her on the floor of the opening. The strain 
of her light weight seemed immense; he was panting 
for breath. 

“Go in, honey,” he gasped, “and I’ll fetch the 
candlestick.” 

She got to her feet with difficulty; she was dazed 
with the fall and shock of the cold water. And in a 
minute or two they were both safely in the dry 
compartment. 

It seemed like a haven of rest after their adventurous 
passage to it. And Laline sank into poor old, damp 
“Mammy Muff” with a sigh of relief. 

David pointed upward to the opening. 

“You can't see the daylight with the candles alight, 
honey, but it is there all the same. And now, when I 
have got my breath again, I must begin to try and throw 
the bar through the hole and make us a new staircase.” 

The tumult of emotion which Laline had been 
through was beginning to have its reaction. She felt 
very faint and inert. David’s voice sounded far away. 
The two candles appeared like flaming eyes in the dark¬ 
ness, One of her arms hurt awfully. How could they 
possibly climb up the rope again? She never could, 
certainly. Would it not be better to give up trying to 
escape and just slip off into shadow-land? She was too 
far gone to feel any more acutely. She had but one 
desire—to be near David, to feel his arms holding her 
while life lasted. 

He took the coat off her tenderly and wrung it out. 
He could see that her strength had greatly lessened in 
the last hours. What if she should die before he could 
climb the rope to find salvation for them ? For he knew 


SIX DAYS 


183 


that he could never pull her up with him. He must go 
alone and leave her again. What would it mean, even 
if he got out? He might be an hour finding help, and 
would she be alive when he returned? 

Yes ; because he would first reach the car and his 
flask of brandy, and return and throw it down to her. 
That would give her courage and strength. But mean¬ 
while she seemed faint again. He clasped her in his 
arms and murmured love words, and, as ever, this 
revived her, so that she opened her eyes. 

Then she caught sight of the cards scattered on the 
floor and the three with their faces turned downwards 
on the box. 

“Fancy cards being down here!” she cried feebly. 

“The boys played a game when they could; it passed 
the time.” And he went towards the improvised table, 
and was just about to pick one up. 

Laline gave a sharp exclamation. 

“Don’t touch those, David. I’ve a feeling that if 
one was the nine of spades it would mean death. Let 
us not know until it comes.” 

“You must not talk like that, honey, with this good 
chance in front of us, and the worst half over.” Then 
he remembered that he had eaten their two portions of 
chocolate and was feeling stronger, whereas she— 

“My little angel love,” he cried passionately, and 
drew her to him. 

In Laline’s weakening mind there was the thought 
that they would now die, and that nothing would be any 
good trying; it was all an impossibility. So let them 
die together held close. 

“David,” she pleaded, “may we not lie down and rest 
just for a few moments ? And then you can be strong 
and throw the rope up. I am so tired, darling.” 


184 


SIX DAYS 


The situation was very desperate, because they were 
both wet and shivering, and there was nothing left dry 
but the garments in the rope. David's vest and his coat 
tied together would make it as long once more as the 
blanket now made it. He must untie that and take it to 
wrap Laline in. She would die of cold if she remained 
in the dripping crepe de chine undergarments. 

“Honey, I must undress you first,” he whispered 
tenderly. “Slip off those wet things and I'll wrap you 
in this dry, warm blanket/’ 

She obeyed him mechanically, and he folded the 
coarse coverlet around her slender form, and, lifting 
her, carried her to the corner by the tins, and laid her 
down, turning over “Mammy Muff ’s dry side to make a 
support for her head with the bed pillow. 

She lay inert. Only her eyes followed David’s 
movements, unutterable love in their hollow depths. 
Then the comfort of the dry woolen stuff enveloped her 
and her lids closed—the unconsciousness of exhaustion 
had come. He bent over her in fear. 

There was not a moment to be lost. He must make 
his preparations to reach the opening. The knotting of 
the Substitutes for the blanket took no time, nor the fix¬ 
ing them to the bar of iron. It was strange how heavy 
the thing felt. A thinnish bar of iron with a nut on the 
end of it to seem to be weighing a ton! 

He dragged the big wooden case over almost beneath 
the hole in the roof, having carefully removed the three 
cards to the other corner, in deference to Laline’s 
wishes, keeping their faces downwards. 

Then, carrying the bar, he climbed upon the box and 
looked upward. 

The aperture seemed very far off, and if the bar did 
not reach it and fell back on his head it might kill him 


SIX DAYS 


185 


before he could get out of the way, unless he jumped 
immediately aside. 

Fortunately, he had been a very fine exponent of the 
art of throwing the javelin. It would stand him in 
good stead now. 

He calculated the distance and saw that his foothold 
was firm, and that he could be sure of keeping perfect 
balance. The top of the case was smooth enough, and 
quite a good size; only part of the sides were broken, 
but not the supports at the corners, which were quite 
firm. 

It was a bit of luck the nut being still on the end of 
the bar; he could be more sure of attaining his object 
and making it fall across the hole. 

He gave one last look at Laline. She was either 
asleep or unconscious. The uncertainty seemed to give 
him desperate determination. He got off the case and 
went over 1 to her. How he loved her! Every atom of 
her frail body, every aspect of her pure devoted soul, 
which had emerged beyond the dross of earthly things. 
Nothing he could ever do in after life, if it was going 
to be given to them, could be enough to show his utter 
worship of her. His thoughts went back to the evening 
walk on the deck of the Olympic—how he had teased 
her and kissed her just for his pleasure, not knowing. 
He knelt reverently beside her and raised and kissed her 
transparent hand—the little left hand which wore the 
wedding-ring. 

A twinge came to him—her ring, not his. Some 
wild jealousy of it filled him. If only he had had some¬ 
thing of his own to have placed upon her! He had not 
even a tie-pin, only a gold safety beneath 1 to keep the tie 
steady; and pins were not pleasant as omens anyway. 


186 


BIX DAYS 


How simple she had been, how obedient; no silly, 
prudish fuss at the critical moment when he had told her 
she must take off her wet clothes; just simple, child-like 
faith in him, and obedience to his wishes. 

“My honey, my little honey I” he cried softly. Then 
he rose and sprang on to the case once more, some fresh 
spurt of life and strength animating him. 

He picked up the javelin—for such, indeed, the bar 
of iron must appear to him—and he stood poised like a 
Greek bronze of an athlete, and then, with one mighty 
effort, he hurled the thing up through the hole into the 
space beyond, and for one astonishing second he 
. watched, and then he pulled the rope, and it fell across 
the opening as he had hoped it would. 

“Thank God!” he cried aloud. “Thank God!” But 
the strain had been terrible, and now he half fell from 
the case and staggered to where Laline lay, unheeding. 
The rope was fast, and when he had rested a minute he 
must climb up it. Rested! Yes; that is what he craved, 
to rest just for a few moments beside his darling. 

He lay down panting, pulling a corner of the blanket 
over himself, and almost instantly sleep or some trance 
overcome him. 

His hand fell beside him and touched one of the 
rusty bayonets, and this, perhaps, inspired his dream. 

For he thought he was in the dug-out with Jack and 
, the others again, and the enemy had attacked the trench 
above. He could hear the tramp of feet as the men 
moved out. He could feel the blood lust, the passion to 
kill surging through him. The German soldiers were 
swarming in now, but they had turned into devils, black 
creatures with horns and hoofs and tails, and they were 
pointing to Laline and saying, “Kill her—kill her, and 


SIX DAYS 


187 


get out yourself.” His loss of consciousness could only 
have lasted a few moments, such is the rapidity with 
which dreams happen. For in the next instant he found 
himself sitting up and bending over Laline, the old, 
rusty bayonet raised to plunge it into her heart. 

He gave a short cry of agony when he realized what 
he was doing, and flung the weapon from him with 
violence. It whirled in the air and alighted point down¬ 
wards, pinning one of the cards to the earth. 

Then he bent over the unconscious girl. Her face 
was white as death. Had her spirit fled? Was all too 
late, all a mockery? 

In frantic anxiety he moved the blanket and put his 
ear to her heart. He could not be certain that he heard 
it beat. 

And there was hope—nay, certainty, of life in front 
of them, for the distance was much less than the height 
he had climbed before, and the knots were nearer. What 
could he do ? What could he do to keep life in her until 
he could reach the car ? She had given up the last bit 
of food to save him—what sacrifice could he make for 
her in return? 

In a lightning flash an idea came to him, and with¬ 
out a moment’s hesitation he put it into effect. 

Laline’s little wet chemise lay stretched out on the 
tins—he took it and tore it into strips—then he made a 
tourniquet with one bit round his left arm by the wrist, 
using his pocket comb for the purpose, and with another 
part he made a slip knot round his arm higher, near the 
elbow, that he could pull tight with his teeth. 

Then he opened the little second sharp blade of his 
pocket knife, and cut a vein—not an artery—on the out¬ 
side of his arm. 


188 SIX DAYS 

The blood spurted out and he let it drip into Laline’s 
mouth. 

The effect was marvelous—she opened her eyes— 
those grey eyes which had but lately gazed at him with 
the soft glance of an angel—and a wild fierceness came 
into them while she eagerly sucked the blood. 

Clarimonde—the Vampire—must have looked thus 
when she drank from the veins of Rumauld. 

Then consciousness returned, and just as David had 
done earlier, she realized what she was doing, and with 
one wikHhriek of horror she rolled over on her face. 

Now David had miscalculated the effect this loss of 
blood would have upon him—and just sensible enough 
to pull-the slip knot tight with his teeth and stop the 
bleeding, he then fell forward in a dead faint. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

ON THE TRACK 

Fergusson wasted no time in more surmises, as 
he stood there in Jack Lumley’s room at Amiens on 
the Sunday night. 

“We could send an aeroplane up to see if it would 
locate the car,” he suggested. “ I could go now and 
arrange for one and have it start at daybreak.” 

Jack found this a good idea. Why had they not 
thought of it before? 

Then a shrewd look came into the Scotsman’s sandy 
face. 

“ You would not be knowing of my particular part 
that Major Lamont might be wanting to show a lady? ” 
he asked. “ I believe, Sir, you were with him when he 
got away from Headquarters to enjoy a scrap that 
time?” 

“By Jove, yes!” and Jack bounded to his feet. 
“ There, were some dug-outs at a place called Etticourt 
—he might certainly make for these. They were splen¬ 
did ones, but the police have been round all those roads, 
and there is no trace of a car. However, we’ll try that 
again. We must start now.” Jack’s voice trembled 
with eagerness. 

“ It is a black, dark night, sir. It would not be no 
use till dawn. Get some sleep, sir, and I’ll see the police 
at once and make arrangements for the aeroplane to go 
up, and at three o’clock I’ll call you and we will start.” 

“ The car must have upset and fallen into a ditch,” 
Jack said. Then both were silent for a minute thinking. 

189 


190 


SIX DAYS 


“ Nobody heard an explosion, sir?” Fergusson 
asked at last. Jack was startled. 

“ Why, no! What do you mean? There couldn’t 
be dud shells about now, the salvage passed in 1919.” 

“ They might have gone down a dug-out, sir, and 
the roof fell in.” 

This awful suggestion turned the faces of both men 
pale. 

Jack saw how his jealous conviction that David and 
Laline had eloped had obscured his imagination. If he 
had not felt certain that this was the case he surely 
would have considered the possibility Fergusson now 
put before him. 

But if it should be true! The agony of it! Laline 
buried alive! 

I cannot wait until the morning. I must start 
for Etticourt now.” 

“ Very good, sir. I suppose I can get another car, 
and join you when I’ve seen about the aeroplane. But 
you won’t do no good until dawn.” 

They settled their plans. Then it was about mid¬ 
night, and by two o’clock both Jack Lumley and Fergus¬ 
son were speeding along towards Albert with spades 
and ropes and brandy in the car, and with orders left 
for ladders and all other necessaries to follow to Gomme- 
court with the gendarmes and Judge Whitmore, as soon 
as it was daylight, to have everything in readiness for 
what they might find. 

It was raining and miserably chilly. Jack had waited 
for Fergusson, after all, and both had gone to the police 
about the aeroplane. One should certainly be sent in 
the morning, and should fly low over all that part of the 
country. 

When they reached Albert the sky was still inky, 
but dawn would be there in less than an hour, and Jack’s 


SIX DAYS 


191 


passionate eagerness had to be crushed for that time. 
As well try to find the traditional needle in a bundle 
of hay as a certain dilapidated line of old trenches in a 
devastated country, without landmarks, in the dark! 
And when the first streaks of grey did show in the sky 
they had still a very difficult task in front of them. 

They made for the Gommecourt direction. Etti- 
court, Jack knew, had been wiped out and would be 
difficult to find without some guide. At half-past four, 
when it had become quite light, they came upon some 
peasants who could give them some information. The 
site of Etticourt was over there to the right; and, yes, 
there were some dug-outs left along by the stumps, 
which had been a wood. 

As they turned into the very side track which David 
and Laline had taken on the Thursday before, they saw 
that an aeroplane was circling far in the distance. This 
comforted them a little. 

Jack, who was driving, put on all speed, but they 
came to the end of the track and to the iron, dilapidated 
crucifix. No road went on. The rain of the last days 
would have obliterated any marks of the car across the 
open space, had there been any, which was very unlikely, 
as the ground was dry at the time David and Laline 
had crossed it. 

“ We’d better go on,” said Fergusson, “ as far as 
we can.” 

The aeroplane was now coming nearer, and was 
flying very low. 

The airman must discover the car if it were about 
anywhere at all. 

The rain had made the open space impossible to 
drive over, so the two men got out and walked. They 
could see the derelict tank in the distance, and made 


SIX DAYS 


192 

for that, but before they could reach it the aeroplane 
was above them, and swooped so low that they could 
hear the observer’s voice shouting in French. “ The 
car’s there—beyond the mound.” 

They raced the last hundred yards, and then they 
came in sight of it and were soon beside it, and could 
see David’s overcoat and Laline’s wrap still in it. 

“ Oh! God, Fergusson! You must be right! ” 

They hastened to the trench and climbed down. 

There was no sign of anything to guide them. They 
passed all the dug-outs with the staircase half fallen in, 
and at last they came to one where the earth appeared 
as though it might have crumbled more recently than in 
the others, but the soaking rain made everything look 
very much the same. 

“ This is the trench Major Lamont and I took,” 
Jack said, his voice hoarse with the agony he was suffer¬ 
ing, “ and one of these dug-outs must be the one we 
were in. The Tommies called them Grosvenor-square. 
Ours was the seventh staircase from that end, I remem¬ 
ber quite well. I was there for days.” 

“ That’ll be the one my master took the lady to,” 
Fergusson announced a little breathlessly, and then he 
began to shout very loud.” 

“Are you there, anybody? ” 

“ See,” Jack exclaimed, as he went very close to 
examine the earth of number seven. “ There must 
have been an explosion, after all. Look at this biscuit- 
tin lid; it is all recently blackened! ” 

The staircase was filled up to the top step, and a 
log support of a door could be seen sticking out. 

He rushed back to number six. This was still quite 
clear, though the steps were broken away. 

“If they are in there, we can get to them through 


SIX DAYS 


193 


here.” he shouted to Fergusson. “ There were double 
excavations, and the ladders went down from each and 
they joined below.” 

Then Jack made Fergusson tie the rope they had 
brought with them firmly round his waist—and, taking 
one of the spades, he began to go down the stairs. And 
then he shouted—with might and main: 

“ David. Are you down there ? David! Laline! ” 

But he had little hope that any voice would answer 
him. This was Monday, the beginning of the fifth day 
since the two were missing—without food and water. 
They surely must be dead! 


* 


13 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

SAVED 

After a moment or two’s mad misery Laline started 
up into a sitting position, the blanket falling from her 
so that she shivered in her nakedness, and then her 
eyes caught sight of the bayonet which had pinned 
the card to the floor. She did not see the other one9 
which were beyond the tins, behind her head. She only 
registered the fact that here was some kind of dagger. 

She had drunk David’s blood—he was dead and she 
would kill herself. But with some subconscious 
modesty, not knowing what she did, she pulled the 
blanket round her first, and then staggered to her feet 
and tottered across the floor. 

The weapon was through a card. How had it got 
there ? And the card would surely be the nine of spades, 
since all was horror and death around her. She bent 
and pulled out the thing, which she now knew was a 
bayonet, the card stuck to the point and came away with 
it. 

She looked at in in some kind of fierce fury. And 
lo! the smiling face of the Queen of Hearts met her 
wild eyes—No sinister nine of spades that she had 
expected. 

Was it an omen? 

Was David not dead, after all? Might they still 
be saved? 

She flung down the cold, rusty steel with a gasp of 
revulsion, and staggered back to her love. She rubbed 
his brow and his hands, while she murmured tender en¬ 
treaties to him to hear her. Then she somehow got to 

194 


SIX DAYS 


195 


her feet again, and gazed around frantically, and she 
saw the pitcher standing by the book of prayers. She 
went to it. They had come through water—that is why 
she was naked—they had been wet—where was the 
water?—she could not remember—* 

She thought and thought, and something took her 
to the door. Yes, there it gleamed, but far beneath. 
The four feet appeared to her an immense distance. 
She could never reach it! Slowly, slowly her mind 
worked, and she looked around once more as if asking 
for counsel of some invisible presence. Then an idea 
occurred to her. Taking her chemise, she tore it into 
strips, tied the strips to the handle of the pitcher and let 
it down. 

It took an absurdly long time to do this simple 
thing, but at last it was accomplished, and the jug was 
in her hands more than a qua'rter full of the dirty water. 

She drank some eagerly, and then took it over to 
David, and sprinkled it on his face, and poured it into 
his mouth, but he never stirred or wakened. 

Ah, God! he was dead after all. There was nothing 
that human aid could do any more. She would lie down 
and die beside him—unless—yes—there was the book 
of prayers—prayers could work miracles. 

It was a terrible exertion to get across the floor again 
to where the book lay, but she succeeded in bringing 
it close at last, and there under the candles she opened it. 

Alas! it was all in Latin. 

But, never mind, God would understand even if she 
did not. He would know she was praying for her be¬ 
loved to recover, praying for herself that, if it were 
death, their souls might go up together into Paradise 
and never be parted. 

She would read the prayers over and over until she 


106 


SIX DAYS 


should fall on her darling’s body. And that would mean 
death. And then would come the awakening. 

And so she began, but in less than a quarter of an 
hour the book dropped from her nerveless fingers, and 
she fell forward and lay with her head on her loved 
one’s breast while her eyes closed in merciful uncon¬ 
sciousness. 

* * * * * 

Perhaps it was the sense of her nearness which 
called the spirit of David to life, or perhaps the prayers 
had been answered, for, after half an hour, he came 
back to remembrance of things, and opened his black 
eyes and blinked in the light of the candles. Then he 
started up to a sitting position, and Laline’s head slipped 
to his knees. What was that? Was it a call? A call 
of his name—and her name? 

“David! Laline! ” 

“ David, are you down there ? ’’ Then a glad shout. 

Yes; it was old Jack’s voice! 

Help was coming. They were going to be saved! 

“ Cheerio! ” he yelled, with all his feeble strength, 
and then he became faint and giddy once more. 

* * * * * 

Jack had come-on down the staircase into the first 
floor dug-out, and turned on his torch, while he still 
shouted. The roof had almost all fallen in, except in 
one part just above the opening to the lower storey. 

He went over there, and then saw the iron bar across 
the hole, with the arms of the coat tied to it, but the 
torch was so bright that he could not see the faint light 
coming up through the aperture. 

He shouted to Fergusson to follow him with the 
brandy and other restoratives which were in the bag 
he carried, and then he knelt down and again shouted. 

“David—Laline—David, are you down there ?” 



SIX DAYS 


197 


and to his wildly anxious ears there came a quivering, 
“ Cheerio ” in answer. 

But by this time he was descending by the rope with 
feverish rapidity. 

What could, those two poor creatures that he now 
caught sight of have suffered? 

David, with greenish-olive face and black stubbly 
beard, unclothed all but his gauze nether garment, lay 
unconscious on the ground, and Laline, naked except 
for the blanket, was close beside him. 

* * * * * 

Now all that we need know for the continuance of 
this tale of two young people and their love is that 
they were brought to earth by devoted, untiring hands, 
and eventually restored sufficiently to be taken back to 
Amiens, 

And then, wrapped in rugs and overcoats, they ar¬ 
rived later in the morning, David still very dazed and 
half-conscious and Laline vague and wandering. 

Mrs. Greening went wild with relief and excitement, 
and had to be removed from the scene in hysterics. But 
Celestine kept her head, and put her beloved lamb to bed, 
and hung over her with the doctor. 

Jack had been too deeply emotioned to show any 
outward signs of his feelings, as was his nature. But 
his heart was numb with anguish. 

What had happened between his friend and his love 
in those five days underground? But it was not the 
moment for speculation. All he must think of was how 
he could help to restore them to health again. 

Fergusson, in his canny Scotch way, had been busy 
calculating. 

He knew that to keep his word and be at the Embassy 
in time on the morrow—the end of the Six Days would 
matter to his master, when once he should be fully con- 


198 


BIX DAYS 


scious, more than anything else in the world. Therefore 
it was his duty to prepare everything in readiness for 
their instantaneous departure as soon as Major Lamont 
should be strong enough to realise things. 

If he watched over him and carried out the doctor’s 
orders all that day, and that night, they could probably 
leave next morning, and reach Paris in time to keep 
the appointment. Fergusson was to accompany Major 
Lamont as far as the first place, where he would dis¬ 
appear from the eyes of men. 

Fergusson knew the importance of the Mission. So 
all that day he nursed his master as a mother would a 
sick child, ministering to him with a tenderness and 
solicitude which no one could have guessed his taciturn 
nature was capable of. 

“ We don’t want no one fussing around,” he decided, 
and kept even Jack from entering the room more than 
once or twice, to ask if anything was wanted. 

It would be better that none of the party knew of 
their flitting until after they had gone in case they should 
try to prevent them starting. 

“ He might give way on account of the lassie, he 
being so weak now,” Fergusson mused. “ And then 
he’d be fit to kill me afterwards for not getting him off, 
dead or alive.” 

So he kept his own counsel as to his plans, and got 
the two-seater filled up with petrol in readiness. 

David had a naturally splendid constitution and 
recovered with great rapidity under the wisely-adminis¬ 
tered stimulants and sips of milk and chicken broth, and 
towards night he fell into a pro found-natural slumber, 
deep and .dreamless. 

Jack understood that rest was best for him and left 
him alone with Fergusson", but he himself stayed up all 


SIX DAYS 


199 


that night, and only retired to bed at eight in the morn- 
in g. 

Laline’s case was different to David’s. 

She was suffering from cold as well as exhaustion, 
and lay in a semi-conscious kind of torpor all day long, 
seemingly indifferent to everything. 

But the doctors assured the distracted Jack and her 
aunt and the devoted maid that she would probably be 
much better on the morrow, and rest and warmth and 
the proper sort of food were the only things she wanted. 

And so at last the morning of the sixth day came, 
and at nine o’clock Fergusson awakened his master. 
He had left him to the very last minute he dared to get 
what rest he could. 

It seemed as though David’s spirit came back from 
a long, long way, but at length he rubbed his eyes and 
sat up. 

“ I expect I’m all right now, Fergusson,” he said. 
“ I seem to have slept for ever. What day is it? ” Fer- 
gusson’s face was like a mask. 

“ It’s Tuesday—the end of your leave sir. I’ve been 
thinking that you’d be wanting to be at the Embassy 
on time sir, and so I’ve everything ready.” 

David got out of bed. So he could “ take the mes¬ 
sage to Garcia ” after all. 

“ That’s fine,” he answered, his voice glad. “ You 
are a trump Fergusson.” 

“ Your bath is prepared, sir, in the bath-room. A 
mighty way off. These French hotels are pretty poor 
places. I’ll see you safely through it, in case you were 
to feel faint, sir, and then I’ll go and pay the bill, and 
have the car outside ready to leave the minute you’re 
ready.” 

And all this was carried out, but while David lay 
in the warm water, his whole mind was set upon what 


200 


BIX DAYS 


he must say to Laline. His first words to Fergusson ; 
after the arrangements were made had been to ask 
about her. 

Fergusson had seen Celestine at five o’clock bring¬ 
ing up more hot milk, and she had said her lady was all 
right and sleeping peacefully, but that the doctor had 
said she was on no account to be disturbed until she 
wakened naturally later. 

It was obvious to David that he could not speak to 
her. This was terrible, but he must do his duty. Where 
was Jack? he now asked, and Fergusson informed him 
that Captain Lumley had but now retired to get a bit 
of sleep. 

“ We oughtn’t to delay a moment, sir; I did leave 
you as late as I dared,” Fergusson added, a firm note 
in his voice. David knew he must dress as quickly as 
he possibly could, and while Fergusson was paying 
the bill he would write to Laline. Two months were 
not so very long to wait. He had not the least doubt 
that she would trust him and understand everything. 




CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE PARTING 

Now there come turns in all our lives when fate 
seems to tangle the threads with deliberate devilish 
maliciousness. At the time we cannot understand the 
reason, and curse luck or fortune. Then, when the 
years go by and we can look back and see things in 
true perspective, we perceive the mighty purpose either 
of education for the soul or automatic punishment for 
some action or eventual reward for achievement in the 
strengthening of character which lay underneath. 

A great, great love cannot come into fulfilment and 
peace before it has passed through the heights and the 
depths of proof, and, indeed, endured the acid test. It 
is the little loves which go by merrily and smoothly. 

Now, such a turn came quickly to Laline and David, 
just when everything seemed fair, when they had 
escaped a dreadful death, and appeared to have earned 
the right to happiness. 

It was a wonderful letter which he wrote rapidly 
to his beloved that May morning at Amiens. It told 
her in as few words as possible of his undying love and 
worship of her, and of how she must trust him, and tell 
no one but Jack of their wedding until he returned. 

“ I am on something great for our country, dar¬ 
ling,” he wrote, “and so there must be no talk and 
interest about me,” and he explained how he must be 
absent for two months, and that she must send a letter 
to the Grand Hotel at Rome, to await his arrival, on his 
return journey. “ It will be wisest for you to tell 
Jack everything, my honey,” he wrote, “ and give him 

201 


SIX DAYS 


202 

my real, heartfelt thanks, because he’s the whitest man J 
I’ve ever met, and he’ll protect and take care of you, no | 
matter what pain it is to him. I’ve only been sensible | 
enough to think this morning, and now there is no time | 
for me to see him myself, and, perhaps, you would 
prefer to tell him in your own way, anyhow.” Then, J 
with fondest expressions of worship and love, he 
signed himself: 

“Your own loving husband, DAVID.” 

Fergusson was still below arranging things, so his 
master rang the bell for the chambermaid. He had 
always felt that Mrs. Greening was against her niece’s 
friendship with him, and he imagined that the maid 
might be antagonistic, too. But if he tipped the cham¬ 
bermaid well there would be no reason for her not to 
deliver the note immediately on Laline’s awakening. 
Either of the others might put it by until later. 

The buxom French woman answered the bell and 
received her instructions : How she was to put the letter 
into Mademoiselle Lester’s own hands as soon as she 
should be awake. The whole hotel were, of course, 
highly interested in the hero and heroine of so exciting 
an adventure, so he had no need to explain who Made¬ 
moiselle Lester was. 

Marie was all smiling sympathy, not altogether 
inspired by David’s magnificent pourboire, either. She 
liked romance, which she scented here. Monsieur could 
count upon her, the beautiful Mademoiselle should 
have it. 

And the missive was safely stowed in her capacious 
apron pocket. 

She was to go in at eleven with fresh hot water 
bottles, she said, and would place it in the hand of 
Mademoiselle herself! 

Fergusson then appeared on the scene to say that 


SIX DAYS 


203 


the car was at the door, and all was paid, and they 
could start immediately, and off they went, in the sun¬ 
shine of the beautiful spring morning, and soon were 
whirling to Paris, the servant driving, and David trying 
to steady his nerves and collect his senses. And at noon 
a pale and gaunt, but determined young man was 
ushered into the American Ambassador’s private sit¬ 
ting room. 

“ Well, how splendid of you to turn up after all, 
Lamont ”—and Mr. Randolph wrung David’s hand in 
sympathy and appreciation—“ exactly on time! I 
never expected to see you after what I understand 
you’ve been through. A nice adventure, surely! You 
are looking a pretty wilted youngster. Are you certain 
you are fit to go on to-day, boy? ” And there was con¬ 
cern as well as anxiety in the tone. 

H I am quite ready, sir.” 

The Ambassador sighed in relief. 

“ I have kept everything that was possible from 
the Press, and your name has never appeared in print 
at all; only the most guarded accounts of the accident 
were allowed to go to the editors last night. How’s 
Miss Lester? ” 

David had not seen her before he left, he told His 
Excellency, but he believed she was progressing. 

“ I came straight on the moment I awakened, sir.” 

The Ambassador was a man of business, and stuck 
always to essentials. 

Major Lamont was not dead. The very important 
matter, the carrying out of which he alone was quite 
suitable to be entrusted with, could go ahead after all; 
and there was no time to be lost. The thing was too 
grave to be able to afford too much sympathy. Because 
of the strike on the Italian railways everything was out 


&Q4 


SIX DAYS 


of gear, and the express would start for Rome at i. 15 
instead of later in the day, as usual. 

“ 1 1 have ventured to take a liberty with you, Major 
Lamont,” Mr. Randolph went on, when all the official 
orders had been thoroughly gone into and David was 
about to leave. “ I have just had a man go to the Ritz 
to take all your belongings to.the station with my niece's 
luggage—Mrs. Hamilton’s—you remember her?— 
because I feared, even if you did turn up, there would 
be no time to collect anything on account of the altera¬ 
tion of the time of the Roman express. So everything 
will be waiting for you at the Gare de Lyon, and you 
can sort it in Rome; and I’d be awfully obliged if you 
woufd look after Daisy on the journey and deliver her 
safe So her sister, the Princess Pianoli, because, with 
this strike, there possibly may. be unforeseen contin¬ 
gencies. My car’s waiting below and will whirl you to 
the Ritz to pick up Mrs. Hamilton and get you to the 
station in time.” 

David’s whole mind was fixed upon the feat of 
registering intricate verbal instructions. He hardly 
took in these last words the Ambassador said, and never 
for one moment dreamed of the sinister turn they her¬ 
alded in his fate. 

“ Of course, sir,” he murmured, absently, “ I shall 
be delighted to do anything. My servant went straight 
on to the Ritz, and will have met your man and got 
everything fixed.” 

And then they shook hands. But as David reached 
the door Mr. Randolph called him, and his voice was 
significant. “ Major Lamont, I am sure I need not 
reiterate that you are trusted not to communicate with 
a living human being until I see you again. You are 
aware of the reason for this, I know, and I hope we 
are not asking a terribly hard thing of a free young 


SIX DAYS 


205 


man ”—and his voice lightened and he smiled. “ But 
you were warned, weren’t you, about this before you 
started from Washington.” 

“ You have my word, sir.” 

And so they parted cordially. 

All the way to the Ritz every force of David’s brain, 
which he knew must probably be weakened by the hard¬ 
ship he had passed through, was concentrated upon 
his instructions. If he made one mistake or forgot 
one point it might cost him his life, and what was 
much worse to him, cause the mission he was on to fail. 

He must hold himself together with an iron hand. 

He still felt very weak and shaky, but he knew this 
was only a temporary state of things and that each 
hour he was recovering. 

He had not had an instant to think of Laline in 
since he had reached Paris, but while he was not dosing 
on the journey up, his mind had never left her. 

How fondly he loved her! 

What would she feel when she read his letter? 
He had meant, when he had climbed the rope and got 
out to bring help to her, to have told her then, when she 
was safe with him, that he must go for this time, but 
his fainting fit and unconsciousness had intervened, and 
this morning to see her was impossible. Another and 
less disciplined character would have allowed emotion 
to master him and would have made him insist upon 
seeing Laline at the risk of creating a scene and making 
complications which might have retarded his departure. 
But, above everything, David was balanced and made 
of stern stuff. His honour was engaged in this trust 
which had been placed in him by the highest powers in 
his country, and, having given every tender assurance 
in his letter to Laline, he knew no further perturbations. 
His golden girl, who had proved herself to have the 


£06 


SIX DAYS 


noblest and most trusting soul, would fully understand 
him, and would wait in loving faith and security for his 
return, and Jack would care for and protect her. He 
could always count on Jack. 

Then for an instant his thoughts rushed on to 
that return-. Ah! 

Meanwhile he must not let a single thing detract 
from the concentration he must give to his mission. 

What a frightful bore having to look after this 
woman, Mrs. Hamilton. Fortunately, as soon as he 
had greeted her he could plead important business to 
read up, and the night would soon come, and he could 
retire to his sleeper. Women—except, of course, his 
darling honey-—were a confounded nuisance most of 
the time! 

He reached the Ritz, and, entering the door, found 
Mrs. Hamilton already fuming in the hall, awaiting 
him, and afraid they would be late! 

“ Why, I thought you’d never come,” she greeted 
him with. “ Do let us start at once! ” and then, as they 
went to the car, she became voluble in her thanks to 
him for his consenting to take care of her. And so 
they went off together to the Gare de Lyon, and finally 
arrived in Rome and parted; and from then onward for 
two months David disappeared from the knowledge 
of men. 

Mrs. Greening was sufficiently calm by that morning 
to go into her niece’s room. Celestine had never left 
her loved mistress all night, untiring in her devotion 
since the. moment Laline had been brought to Amiens, 
and Mrs. Whitmore also had kept her head. 

Laline was now sleeping peacefully, and, although 
still very weak, was certainly on the road to recovery. 

Celestine put her finger on her lips when Mrs. 



SIX DAYS 207 

-ening appeared and drew her into her own room 
next door. 

Here she gave an account of the night and what 
nourishment Mademoiselle had taken, and how she 
had been. 

“When I think of that Major Lamont! ” Mrs. 
Greening exclaimed—“ the cause of all this trouble, I 
wish to goodness I could wring his neck! You must 
not let him come near Miss Lester, Celestine. I am 
through with this nonsense.” 

Celestine informed her that, for the time, there 
would be no need for them to bother, because, as she 
went down the stairs at ten o’clock, she chanced to see 
into the yard where the cars started from, through the 
staircase window, and there was Major Lamont and his 
servant leaving with their suitcases! 

“You don’t say,” said Mrs. Greening, relieved. 

Their voices had disturbed the patient, however, 
and a feeble voice called: 

“ Celestine! ” 

The two women rushed back into the room and 
Laline was fully awake and looked better. 

Mrs. Greening fussed as much as she dared, for 
Celestine’s eye was sternly upon her. Then she was 
wise enough to leave as soon as she could on the plea 
of meeting the doctor. 

The moment Laline was alone with her maid she 
whispered: 

“Celi—How is Major Lamont? And when can 
he come to see me?” 

“ Monsieur le Major has departed for Paris, Made¬ 
moiselle. I see him go at ten o’clock.” 

Laline’s face blanched. 

“ He’s—gone to—-Paris! ” 


208 


SIX DAYS 


“ It would seem so,” and Celestine shrugged her 
shoulders. She know knew she was giving her lamb 
great pain, and hated to have to do it. 

“ But doubtless le Major had duties, and will com¬ 
municate with Mademoiselle presently.” 

“ He’s left no letter for me, then? ” 

Laline’s still languid voice sharpened with anxiety, 
and she started up in bed. “ Are you sure, Celestine, 
chere ? Go down to the concierge at once and ask—and 
ask Captain Lumley.” 

But Celestine was full of fear when she saw her 
little mistress’s face. She must be soothed and quieted 
first before she could leave her. This, however, only 
enraged Laline. 

“ Go—go at once—I cannot bear it,” she cried, 
brokenly. 

So Celestine went, but returned in a few minutes 
with the news that Captain Lumley was in bed still 
sleeping after having been up all night—and Major 
Lamont had left at ten with his servant—who had 
given no information as to their destination. The 
servant had paid the bill, and le monsieur had come 
rapidly through the hall and got into the car. That is 
all the concierge knew about it! 

Laline trembled as she lay. What could this mean? 
She was too weak to reason. 

“Ask the chambermaid and the waiter; perhaps 
he left some note with them- 

Celestine departed again on this mission, but re¬ 
turned, no one had received any message. She did not 
know that it was a different chambermaid on the floor 
where David had slept who was now on duty. 

Laline could not believe her ears—and in her weak 
state she burst into a passion of tears. 

“ Oh! you are all wrong—you are all deceiving me 



SIX DAYS 209 

—Aunty hates Major Lamont—and you are a cruel, 
wicked woman, Celi-” 

The devoted maid was now beside herself with sor¬ 
row and commiseration. She felt that she could tell 
any lie to quiet her lamb—but what ? What could she 
say? The Major had gone—and that seemed the 
end of it. 

The doctor was now coming into the next room. 
She heard him. 

“ I will go once more,’’ she assured Laline, " and 
question again, only my Mademoiselle Cherie must 
quiet herself.” Laline sobbed less violently, and Celes- 
tine escaped into the adjoining apartment. Here she 
confided in the doctor, Mrs. Greening fortunately 
being absent. 

Her mademoiselle had received disquieting news 
and was in a state of great agitation. Might not a 
good piqure be a fine thing to quiet the nerves until she 
was stronger ? Monsieur le Docteur would know. 

The doctor agreed as soon as he saw his patient’s 
poor little face. Laline held herself as well as she could 
while he was talking to her, but her eyes stared in an 
agonised way. 

They kept her dozing all that day—and night— 
and when the Wednesday came she woke, stronger in 
health, but with that awful sense of crushing calamity 
upon her. 


14 



CHAPTER XXV. 


FATE 

Now all this trouble came about because Fate used 
as an instrument the unmended hole in the apron pocket 
of a chambermaid in a provincial French hotel. Marie, 
the woman in question, was not at all a bad creature, 
and had every intention of delivering the letter of so 
generous a gentleman to so beautiful a lady. But what 
will you ? She had meant to mend the hole yesterday 
and forgotten, and the wretched thing grew larger and 
larger, so that, without her being aware of it, the letter 
at last .slipped through it on to the floor, and fell among 
the torn-up papers of a commercial traveller in one of 
the other rooms which she had been cleaning, and was 
duly carried away and burnt with the rest of the debris 
by Antoine, the valet de chambre. And so that 
was that! ^ 

When the time came for her to go to Miss Lester’s 
room to replenish the hot bottles she was just about to 
knock at the door, and felt for the envelope, when she 
perceived the hole and her pocket’s emptiness. 

Aghast for a moment, she paused, undecided what 
to do, so first she went back into the room she had 
come from, but found Antoine had already departed 
with the rubbish. 

Then in anxiety she dived into her dress pocket for 
her purse—and gave a great sigh of relief—Monsieur’s 
fifty-franc note was fortunately safe! So the gravest 
part of her preoccupation was quieted. 

And, again, what will you ? Accidents will happen, 
and, after all, the letters of young gentlemen to young 

£10 


SIX DAYS 


211 


ladies were never serious affairs, and these two would 
doubtless meet in Paris in a day or two—and, mon 
Dieu! the thing was gone, and that was an end of it! 
Her pourboire was, fortunately, not lost, so better to 
say nothing and know nothing—since her intentions 
had been good, and just ill-luck had stepped in and 
frustrated them. 

Her shoulders shrugged eloquently, and presently, 
the bottles filled, she went off to work happily, and later 
ate an excellent dejeuner! 

Jack Lumley came down by luncheon time refreshed 
with his short rest, and Celestine told him that her 
mistress was sleeping. 

At this stage of events she did not think it wise to 
put unnecessary thoughts into Captain Lumley’s head. 
She would discover for herself first how great a matter 
it could be to her lamb that Major Lamont had gone off 
without any word. Indignation was rising in her own 
breast. After being for five days buried under ground 
with as lovely and fascinating a young lady as her 
mistress, how could a man be so rude, so mal eleve, as 
to do such a thing? 

And, to say the least of it, they must have grown 
very very well acquainted, and, knowing Mademoiselle’s 
passion for le Major, how far the affair had gone she 
did not care to speculate. 

In all cases Major Lamont had once more proved 
himself an insolent. 

Mrs. Greening was in a very disturbed state of mind 
also. It appeared, when all could be thought over 
quietly after her hysterics had subsided, that Laline 
must have been almost entirely without clothing when 
they had been found! And even when people were 
near death that was not at all nice, she felt, and conjured 


SIX DAYS 


up a picture that could not be pleasant to Jack, as she 
herself found it horrible. 

Major Lamont, too, had had to give up his gar¬ 
ments to make the rope ladder. As to what had 
actually happened no one knew, for Major Lamont had 
gone off as soon as he was fit to talk, and Laline was 
still sleeping; but enough had been gathered from Judge 
Whitmore, who was at the actual rescue, and from Mrs. 
Whitmore, who had had the good luck not to be over¬ 
come by a nervous attack on their arrival, to clearly 
prove that they must have been for days quite alone 
underground, and for the last one at least almost naked! 

Certainly the whole thing was perfectly disastrous, 
and the sooner she could get her niece back to Paris, 
and then over to England to meet Jack’s relations, the 
better it would be. And, although it was ill-mannered 
of Major Lamont to go off like that, it was a good thing 
in every way. 

Laline was in no state to think clearly for another 
twenty-four hours. It was late on the Wednesday 
afternoon when she awoke to full consciousness. 

She was alone in the room for the moment. At first 
her eyes took in the buffish striped paper and the heavy 
garniture de cheminee and the stiff furniture. 

The window was wide open and the soft spring air 
came in to her. 

Why did she feel this frightful sense of depression? 
Where was she? 

Yes, she was in the hotel at Amiens, and they were 
saved, but had not David gone? She must think 
deeply. Yes, that was it, David had left her. 

When this thought came she started up in bed and 
called shrilly: 

“ Celestine.” But it was Mrs. Whitmore who en¬ 
tered the room, not her faithful Celi. 


BIX DAYS 


213 


“ Oh, Laline, we’re so glad you are awake and all 
right, dearie. I’m just sitting here while Celestine rests 
a little bit. Why, you don’t look too fine, child. Do 
you want some milk or anything? ” 

Laline wanted only one thing—news of David— 
and that she feared Mrs. Whitmore could not give her; 
but she was a proud girl, and not accustomed to let her 
secrets out. So, even in her feeble state, she had sense 
enough to manceuvre. 

“How’s everybody?” she asked as lightly as she 
could. “ You all must have been crazy with anxiety 
About us.” 

“ Indeed we were. We are longing to hear just 
what happened-” 

“ Major Lamont can tell you better than I.” 

“ But he’s gone—he went yesterday morning while 
you were still unconscious, dear. Very strange of him 
I do think.” 

Laline fired up. No one should speak slightingly 
of her David. 

“ He had business in Paris, of course, and, please, 
I don’t want to talk of that horrible time for ages and 
ages. You can’t think what it is to be starved to death 
and in darkness. We just went into the dug-out for fun 
to see the place Jack and Major Lamont fought in. An 
old priest showed us the way. He was killed in the 
explosion.” Then she shivered and shut her eyes. “ I 
think I’ll try and sleep again now, Mrs. Whitmore. 
Don’t, please, wait; I am all right. Just send Celestine 
to me when she comes up.” 

And Laline turned over on her side. 

As soon as she was alone in the room again a fearful 
restlessness overcame her. What possibly could be the 
meaning of things ? David always had been mysterious 
about his movements, she remembered. What was his 



214 


SIX DAYS 


business? He had said once that he had to do what he 
must sometimes, but was hoping some day to do what 
he could. Had he received some order ? But even so— 
to leave her without a word. Her David—her very 
own husband! 

She was trembling all over now. 

She did not doubt him. She loved him utterly, but 
there surely must be some explanation. Perhaps he had 
left it with Jack, and Celestine did not know about it. 
She would send for Jack the very moment she could. 

How was she to bear this uncertainty? Much 
worse a pain than any she had gone through in 
the dug-out. 

But above everything she must not mistrust David. 
She felt her wedding ring. Where was her great sap¬ 
phire that her father had given her ? She did not care 
very much. How could a ring matter now? How 
could anything matter. David was the beginning and 
ending of her horizon. Would Celestine never come? 
Must she lie there inert and helpless ? 

They would leave immediately for the Ritz. There, 
of course, there would be a letter for her, or probably 
David himself. So her thought wandered in incessant 
speculations. He had hated all the fuss of her aunt 
and the Whitmores—that was probably it, and he had 
gone off thinking she would recover quickly, and, of 
course, return to Paris. 

Perhaps he was making all the arrangements with 
the Ambassador for their civil wedding? Things were 
so strange, and she must not let evil possibilities come 
into her mind, only good ones. She would not tell her 
aunt or Jack anything about her marriage to David— 
they would tell it together when she was with him 
in Paris. Here her heart beat—with him in 
Paris! Oh, how glorious! She must not let a single 


SIX DAYS 


215 

thing trouble her now, since it was obvious to anyone 
with any horse sense that no man who had been her 
lover and husband for five days, and with whom she 
had faced a horrible death, could go off directly they 
were saved, with the deliberate intention of desert¬ 
ing her! 

And so some comfort came at length, and she 
lay still. 

Then her thoughts went back to the beginning of 
their married hours—and so on through them all—and 
she thrilled at her remembrances. But when she came 
to the last incidents, and the recollection of having 
sucked the blood from David’s arm flashed into her 
mind, she gave a short, strangled scream. Could that 
be the reason? He was utterly disgusted with her. 
Where had the blood come from? Had he scratched 
his arm; or had she bitten him in her mad hunger ? 

She could not remember—only the picture of that 
blood she had drunk was clear in her mental vision. 

This thought was such agony that she could not bear 
it any longer all alone. She could not be patient and 
wait for Celestine; she must call someone and send for 
Jack. Uncertainty was too great suffering. So she 
pressed the electric bell above her head, and in a moment 
Mrs, Whitmore returned to her. 

“ I would so much like to see Captain Lumley,” 
Laline said as calmly as she could. “ Would you please 
ask him to come up, if he is in the hotel? I am quite 
all right now.” 

“ Surely, dear ”—and with a good deal more talk¬ 
ing Mrs. Whitmore left her at length, and presently 
Jack came to her. 

“ Laline! My darling! ” he cried brokenly. “ Oh! 
how thankful I am that you are better.” 

“ I’m all right, Jack,” she replied cheerily, her state- 


216 SIX DAYS 

ment in contrast to her lily-white face and blue- 
shadowed eyes. 

He came over close to the bed and sat down be¬ 
side her. 

“ Laline, you can never know the frightful pain 
these days have been—I just can’t talk about it—but 
you can guess,” and he kissed her transparent hand. 

“ Yes; dear Jack, you are so good and kind. Did— 
Major Lamont leave any message with you before 
he went? ” 

“No; wasn’t it odd of him? It is the strangest 
thing I’ve ever known—old David to hop off like that. 
I suppose he had some important appointment.” 

Laline could feel that sensation as of an ice-hand 
pressing her heart—that feeling of sick emptiness which 
is so hard to endure. She longed to tell everything to 
this kind friend, but, she could not. Where could she 
begin? Where break off ? It would all pain him hor¬ 
ribly, and it might be better to wait until they reached 
Paris, and David was with them again—with them 
again ?—but would he be with them again ? And once 
more the agonising feeling of mystery and uncertainty 
and misery came over her. 

Jack was much too sympathetic a person to allude 
to the horror of the five days in the dug-out. He con¬ 
tented himself by telling her in as commonplace a 
string of sentences as he could of how they at last found 
them, and about the rescue, as Laline had been uncon¬ 
scious until they had reached the car. It had taken 
longer to bring David round. 

“ His arm was cut, and he had a tourniquet on it, 
and a bandage above to stop the bleeding. We did 
wonder how that had happened. You were knocked 
out and did not know anything about it, I expect, dear 


SIX DAYS 217 

little girl. The poor old boy must have lost a lot 
of blood.” 

Laline shut her eyes for a moment. She was con¬ 
trolling herself with difficulty, and trying, trying to 
remember clearly. 

David was holding his arm over her mouth—she 
could reconstruct that picture—and now she realised 
that he must have made preparations for the bleeding 
beforehand, since the tourniquet and the slip-knot were 
on his arm. 

Was it—could it be—that he had cut a vein deliber¬ 
ately to pour the blood into her mouth to try and save 
her if she was fainting. Yes, that must have been it. 
Dear, noble David—her love—her darling—her hus¬ 
band! But where was he? 

Jack saw that something had moved her exceed¬ 
ingly, and that she had lain back trembling with tears 
coming from her quivering closed eyelids. 

“ We won’t speak about anything to do with that 
frightful time, dearest child,” Jack said, tender solici¬ 
tude in his tone. “ We’ll only talk of joining old David 
quickly in Paris.” 

Laline opened her eyes, and gratitude was in 
their depths. 

Then Jack soothed her, and suggested that he should 
come and sit with her while she had her dinner—some 
chicken and green peas and champagne, and other 
good things! 

And Laline was glad to have him. Anything was 
better than being alone with her thoughts, and nothing 
possibly could be done until they reached Paris next 
morning. 

Then the doctor arrived and felt her agitated pulse, 
and decided that for this one more night a sleeping 
draught would not hurt her. 


218 


SIX DAYS 


Mrs. Greening was delighted when she heard th 
Jack proposed to attend the invalid for her dinner. 
After all it might be that this shock they had had would 
bring them still closer together. Major Lamont should 
not appear upon the scene again if she could help it. 

Nearly everyone who reads this tale has received 
some terrible piece of news some time in his or her life, 
and has gone through the agony of speculation which 
was convulsing Laline. All thoughts reasonable for a 
little while, and then back to the shock again, and the 
ceaseless questioning: “What does it mean? What 
does it all mean ? ” 

Jack.knew she was frightfully anxious to know 
what had made David go so suddenly, and as he could 
not help her he did his utmost to keep her mind engaged 
with other things. 

They spoke of Channings Priory. How he hoped 
she would like it. It was a dear old place, with cloisters 
going to the chapel, and it would be looking its best 
now with all the fresh green. 

Laline tried to answer interestedly—tried to talk— 
tried to control herself. But all the time some inward 
voice was saying “ Where is he ? Oh! where can 
he be?” 

But presently the old doctor returned and gave her 
the draught, and so at last she slept soundly, and in 
the morning, although the poor child could hardly stand 
on her feet, the party went back by train to Paris and 
arrived at the Ritz Hotel about luncheon time. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE OTHER WOMAN 

It was with perfectly feverish anxiety that Laline 
asked for her mail when they arrived in the Ritz Hall. 
It was a large one, but all from America, except one 
from her friend Molly, who had married the English 
Marquis. Molly was enchanted to hear that Laline had 
arrived in Europe, and sent a cordial invitation for her 
to stay with her in London. 

All this once would have been a delight, but now 
Laline could hardly take in the sense of the words, so 
great had been the blow of finding no word from David. 

She would ask the concierge; perhaps there was 
some message for her at his desk, not with the mail 
clerk? Messages and letters sometimes did go wrong 
in hotels. 

There were some cards and notes which had already 
gone up to the sitting-room, she was informed, and then 
it seemed as if no lift ever went so slowly! But at last 
she was there in the sunny room, which looked upon 
the garden. Mrs. Greening was fussing all the time, 
but Laline paid no attention to her. 

Her fingers trembled so that she could not hold 
the American letters which she carried, and Jack took 
them from her hands. Then she hastily scanned the 
few cards and two notes, which lay on the table. None 
was from David. She felt very faint, and sank into 
an armchair. 

“ Why, my dear, you’ll just pass out if you don’t 
take care of yourself,” her aunt exclaimed. “ Go and 
lie down this minute.” 


219 


SIX DAYS 


no 

Jack supported her into the bedroom, and Celestine 
laid her on the sofa and motioned them all to leave 
her mistress alone with her. Laline’s eyes had told 
her much. 

When the door was closed the poor girl raised 
herself up and clung to the maid’s arm. 

“ Celi, I’m going crazy. I must know where Major 
Lamont is. You must go down as if on your own and 
question the concierge if he came here, and where 
he is.” 

■ Celestine went to the telephone and asked if Major 
Lamont was in the hotel. 

Laline watched her face anxiously. She could see 
that nothing she wished to know was being told. 

“ Go down and find out everything. I can’t bear 
it any longer.” 

Celestine covered her mistress with the eiderdown, 
she was shivering so. 

“ Please go! ” 

Celestine went. And then there was a knock at the 
door, and in came Laline’s lunch, with the usual waiters 
and table. This was perhaps a good thing, for it forced 
her to control herself. 

Mrs. Greening had meanwhile read her correspond¬ 
ence in the sitting room, and when she peeped in to see 
if her niece had everything she wanted before she 
herself should go down to the restaurant, she bran¬ 
dished a note from Mrs. Randolph. 

It was to express all commiseration for the horrible 
accident, and to hope she should see them soon. 

“ The Ambassador’s niece—you remember her at 
' the ball, Laline, don’t you ?—she danced opposite you— 
has just left for Rome on Tuesday afternoon, and Mrs. 
Randolph says she’s so lonely without her. She wants 


SIX DAYS 


221 


to have parties of young people now, so there will be 
gaiety for you, dear. You must get well at once! ” 

At that moment Celestine returned. 

Laline was nearly at breaking point. How could 
she go on hearing the chatter of her aunt ? 

“Iam sure Jack’s waiting for his lunch, dear. Do 
go, I’m all right,” she pleaded, “ and I want to be quiet 
and eat this lovely omelette.” 

Mrs. Greening assured her she was in no hurry, 
and in desperation Laline cried out: 

“Well, I’m just so nervous I can’t eat with any¬ 
one here.” 

This had its effect, and when her aunt had gone, 
Celestine came up close to her. She had questioned 
everyone, she told her mistress, pretending it was Fer- 
gusson she particularly wanted to hear news of, and she 
had gathered that Monsieur le Major—and here she 
paused awkwardly—it was so terrible to her to be the 
bringer of such bad news. 

“ Go on, for mercy’s sake, Celi.” 

“ Eh, bien. Well, Monsieur le Major arrived on 
Tuesday about half an hour after his servant, who 
packed, and with the lady’s maid started for the Gare 
de Lyon.” 

“ What lady’s maid? ” Laline’s voice was icy, and 
her face had grown deadly white, while her grey eyes 
flashed fiercely. 

“ Ze lady with whom le Major went to Rome.” 

“ Celi, for God’s sake speak out, tell me every¬ 
thing! ” 

So the maid began again in detail. How Fergusson 
arrived and another servant, and with Mrs. Hamil¬ 
ton’s maid- 

“ Mrs. Hamilton! ” almost hissed Laline, interrupt¬ 
ing. And that then that lady waited in the hall most 


SIX DAYS 


222 

impatiently, asking constantly had Major Lamont 
arrived, for they would be late, and finally he drove up 
in a car, rushed in to meet her, and they both went 
off in the same car to the Gare de Lyon. 

“ They were en route for Rome, mademoiselle, 
because the chasseur who helped to take the luggage 
from the Ritz saw them together in the carriage as the 
train left the station.” 

But Laline heard no more for a few moments. 
She had fainted. 

When she came to herself she was still alone with 
Celestine, who, with a frightened face, knelt on the 
floor beside her. 

The poor, distracted child gazed at her maid piti¬ 
fully. When she became sensible of things: 

“ Celi, Celi, let me die. I can’t bear it.” 

“ My lamb—my dove.” 

“You are quite, quite certain—there can’t be any 
mistake ? Oh! he could never have done such a thing. 
No one could be so cruel.” 

Celestine could only shake her head sadly. These 
people below had no motive to make mischief. The 
facts were just what she had said. 

“ Then there is no truth in earth or heaven.” 
Laline’s voice was terrible, and no one would have 
recognised her haggard face with drawn mouth and 
stony eyes. 

What agony she suffered in the next hour no one 
could gauge. She sobbed and cried, and then lay still 
trembling. She got up from the sofa and went to 
the window. 

Should she throw herself out and have done with 
the hideous anguish ? 

Celestine filled a tumbler of champagne from the 
pint which the Amiens doctor had ordered Miss Lester 


SIX DAYS 


223 


to take at her meals, until she should be quite recovered, 
and she went over and made her drink it—drink it 
straight down. And then she sat by her and stroked 
her hair, and coaxed her to eat some tender chicken, 
and finally she appealed to her pride. Mrs. Greening 
and Captain Lumley would be coming up in a minute, 
and they surely must not see Mademoiselle like this! 

Laline straightened herself. 

“ Don’t let them come in—say I am asleep,” and 
she flung herself down on the bed. 

Celestine locked the door. 

And so that dreadful day passed, and a still more 
dreadful night. And in the morning Laline was ex¬ 
hausted, and lay still and quiet. Her magnificent young 
constitution was regaining its usual strength, though, 
in spite of the grief and shock she was enduring. The 
effect of the incarceration and the starvation were pass¬ 
ing, and her body was not ill now, it was only her spirit 
which was in torture. 

Would she be well enough to go to the Embassy 
to dine that night ? Mrs. Greening sent her maid in to 
ask, and there was going to be a dance. Mrs. Randolph 
had just telephoned to invite them. 

A thought came to Laline, Mrs. Hamilton was the 
Ambassador’s niece, perhaps she could hear news of 
some sort. Yes, she would be well enough, certainly. 

Her face was set hard as adamant. Celestine felt 
very nervous. It—the affair with the Major—was 
more than a beguin then, she feared. But to go out and 
have amusement was the best thing to do in any case. 

Nothing could exceed Jack’s kindness. His dear 
sympathy seemed to lap her round with warmth and 
comfort when they met. 

Laline had fought with herself in the dawn when 


224 


SIX DAYS 


she woke. Even with all these proofs of David’s defec¬ 
tion, ought she to condemn him until she could see him 
face to face? 

No, she ought not. A man would not open a vein 
in his arm to save her life if he were such a false 
deceiver. There still must be some explanation, and she 
would calm herself and say her prayers, those prayers 
she had so often repeated in the dug-out. Ah! how 
happy she had been there! And how much better if 
they had just died together and never come back to this 
cruel outside world, where all was false and devilish. 

After she heard of the invitation to the Embassy 
she cheered up a little. Underneath there was still this 
awful sinking, but hope is a strange thing, and even this 
faint hope that she might have news gave her courage. 

She went down to luncheon, a pale lily girl, im¬ 
mensely interesting. 

She had implored her aunt, as soon as they had 
arrived, to avoid the subject of the accident as much as 
possible, and to make light of it to their friends—she 
so feared to have to speak of David, and Mrs. Greening 
had her own reasons for desiring to fall in with this 
idea. The less said about the whole hateful and 
scandalous contretempts the better ! 

The hall was full of the usual crowd of Americans 
and other foreigners, and they were greeted by 
compatriots. 

“ Why, Laline,” Mrs. Greening said when they 
were seated, “ all our things are back numbers. I do 
hope, dear, you’ll soon be well enough to come round 
and attend to your toilet and get a new outfit.” 

Once Laline’s first thought would have been to do 
this, now after her aunt spoke she did perceive that 
there was a different look on everyone. She would 


SIX DAYS 


225 


force herself to take up interest in clothes and shops. 
Anything to pass the time until the evening. 

Jack was extremely worried in his mind. He knew 
Laline so very well. He guessed that something terrible 
was troubling her. Had she quarrelled with David in 
some final way that he had gone off like this ? Or 
had David fallen violently in love with her, and not 
being able to make her love him, had thought flight 
the wisest course? 

But what was the common-sense view to take of 
what could have happened between such a girl as Laline 
and such a man as David, during five days alone to¬ 
gether, with an almost certain death in front of them? 

He felt that he would rather not face this. And 
since David had gone, that proved that some grave 
break had occurred, and whatever the affair had been 
between them, it was obviously over now, and his best 
course would be to soothe and comfort his love and 
try to make her forget. 

David was an honourable man, and above all things 
a gentleman. So his going in silence was positive proof 
that he knew everything—whatever it had been—was 
finished between them. 

But why, then, Laline’s obvious and passionate 
anxiety. 

Had she been playing at dismissal with David, and 
had he taken it seriously? But people did not play 
with death staring them in the face and when they are 
almost dead with hunger. 

No; great emotion on David’s part and a dismissal 
on Laline’s was the only possible solution. 

But even with everything settled and reasoned like 
this, poor Jack’s gallant heart was full of unrest 
and anxiety. 

Laline was like a white orchid in a pure white 

15 


226 


SIX DAYS 


dress that night at the Embassy. She had never looke 
more lovely nor been more attractive. Her face had 
character now stamped upon it; her beautiful eyes were 
no longer meaningless, but contained some story. 

She had no chance of speaking to the Ambassador 
until after dinner, when the dance was going on, and 
then with art which was truly female she turned the 
conversation in the way she wanted it to go, when he. 
came up to talk to her. 

She made herself speak of the accident so as to get 
in David’s name. 

Major Lamont had been so wonderful, did His 
Excellency happen to know his address in Rome? as 
she wanted to write and thank him. He had had to go 
off from Amiens before she was awake. 

The Ambassador looked at her keenly. Had David 
betrayed a trust? But she gave herself away. “We 
heard at the Ritz that he had left for Rome, and as 
your niece, Mrs. Hamilton, must have gone by the same 
train I wondered if you would know where to 
find him?” 

Mr. Randolph’s clever eyes were as innocent as 
a child. 

He had no knowledge of Major Lamont whatever, 
and his manner gave the impression that he was greatly 
surprised to hear he had gone to Rome with his niece! 
Surprised, and not altogether pleased! 

Laline was no fool, but she was unaccustomed 
to clever diplomats, and had never had to cross swords 
with one before. 

“ He did not know she meant to meet David,” were 
the poor child’s despairing thoughts. “ They must have 
arranged it all at that ball, and so he had only just 
time to rush off to keep the appointment,” 


SIX DAYS 


227 


It seemed as though her knees were giving way 
under her, and she sank into a chair near. 

“I’m sorry to be so feeble still,” she said with a 
nervous laugh. “ I suppose it takes some little while 
to recover quite from almost starvation! ” 

Then she called all her pride to her rescue. She, 
Laline Lester—alas! she could no longer think of her¬ 
self as “ Lamont ”—would not let the world know 
that a man had betrayed and made a fool of her. She 
would come up to the scratch even if it killed her. 

So she forced herself to be gay, and go off and 
dance, though she could hardly stand, and presently a 
brilliant pink flush came into her white rose cheeks, and 
Jack though he had never seen her look so beautiful. 

But when she was alone again at the Ritz, all pre¬ 
tence fell from her, and she paced her room in agony. 

There could be no doubt now. The going off had 
been an arranged thing, and must have been all settled 
before they ever went to Amiens. And as soon as 
sDavid became conscious he remembered it, and felt the 
easiest way was to go right off without making any 
excuse, to avoid her reproaches. He knew, as she did, 
that there was no proof of their wedding—the priest 
was dead, and there had not been even a ring. Here 
her trembling little hands felt her own diamond hoop, 
which was still on her left third finger, and with a 
gesture of passionate resentment she began to draw it 
off. But something stopped her. No, not yet, not yet. 

How could a man be such a false brute ? David had 
teased her and made her jealous about Mrs. Hamilton ; 
she remembered now, one time when she was watching 
him digging. Could it have been that he was feeling 
awkward, remembering about this appointment ? Had 
his whole love for her been false? Were his kisses 
Judas’s kisses? 


SIX .DAYS 


No, no! Impossible. Whatever hold Mrs. Hamil¬ 
ton had over her beloved—one evidently strong enough 
to make him betray every trust and break her, Laline’s, 
heart—while they had been together below the earth he 
had passionately loved her. 

She would wait yet a week—two weeks—before she 
removed the ring. 

And never should a word about their relations to 
each other pass her lips. It was merciful she had not 
given this secret away to her aunt or Jack, or even 
Celestine, on her first awakening! And at last she went 
to bed, utterly worn out, and slept heavily. 

And so the days passed in alternate anguish and 
hope and fear until they left for England in the’second 
week in June. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 
laline’s anguish 

They motored from Dover to Charmings Priory, 
only about a twenty-mile drive, through the divinest 
green country, which seemed to Laline’s eyes as a culti¬ 
vated garden, with its velvety small fields and flower¬ 
ing hedges. There was a stillness in the air and great 
peace, and her troubled heart experienced a sense of 
relief she knew not why. 

The place itself was most picturesque. Not enor¬ 
mously large, but so very old and rambling, the cloisters 
and the chapel of the fifteenth-century workmanship. 
The house came near to the village on one side of the 
park, but on the other, beyond the haw-haw which 
divided the garden from it, the huge oaks and elms 
stretched a quarter of a mile, and then joined the pad- 
docks where Jack’s old cousin’s thoroughbreds grazed. 
To breed these beautiful creatures was his hobby. 

A June summer evening in England, when it happens 
to be fine and warm, is one of the most complete and 
beautifully fresh things in the world. 

Laline felt this, and when she reached her panelled, 
spacious bedroom, with its quaint old needlework 
hangings and carved oaken bed, and smelled the roses 
and honeysuckle, and saw the perfect stateliness and 
order in everything, a sudden passionate anguish came 
over her again. 

What would it have been like to have come to such 
a dear old place with David! How they could have 
wandered in that beautiful garden after dinner, in the 
moonlight, and how happy they could have been in 

229 


230 


SIX DAYS 


this exquisitely-appointed room! What could 
happened? Where could he be? 

Before they had left Paris she had used all f 
means in her power to try to discover where he had 
gone. But Rome seemed to have swallowed him up. 
She knew no one personally to write to there, and could 
gain no information whatsoever. 

As she sat by the latticed window at Channings, when 
she was supposed to be resting before dinner, a sense 
of stupefaction came over her. It was all too incredible, 
but she was not the kind of character to chase after any 
man. If David was so base as to have deserted her for 
another woman he would be base enough to deny that 
there ever was any ceremony of marriage between them. 
Her aunt was not of a nature it would be wise to con¬ 
fide in. If the romance of her life was over, better that 
it should be her own secret. 

She was an utterly changed Laline from the beauti¬ 
ful, self-confident, spoilt heiress of Washington days. 
She was very pale, and much thinner, and her eyes 
never seemed to have lost those blue hunger shadows. 

Mrs. Greening placed everything to the account of 
the five days underground, and Jack’s devotion never 
flagged. Pie said nothing to agitate Laline about his 
own desires towards her. He just waited and wor¬ 
shipped. 

Mrs. Greening made the resolve when she saw her 
niece in these new surroundings, not the bustling rush 
of Paris, that she would consult some specialist about 
her. The days of privation and shock had left some 
mental strain still. That was evident. She was losing 
her looks, and for Laline Lester to lose her looks just 
when she was going to see Europe and make a fine 
marriage was just too impossible! 

The party wandered out of the open drawing-room 


SIX DAYS 


231 


windows into the rose garden, after, they had had their 
coffee. The drawing-rooms were in a newer eighteenth- 
century wing of the house, and Jack and Laline strolled 
to the low balustrade, which in this part bordered the 
haw-haw. 

“ It is all SO' strange to me,” Laline said—“ this 
funny deep ditch dividing the garden from the park. 
You English people are so very exclusive! ” 

“ You mean the haw-haw ? Well, you see, you have 
to have some barrier to keep back the deer,” Jack told 
her. “ There was a moat once, but it was filled up when 
the place ceased to be a priory in Henry VIII’s time. ” 

“ Four hundred years ago. You speak as though it 
were yesterday! ” 

“ We’re an island, and so things last, I suppose.” 

But Laline’s thoughts were ever upon the one sub¬ 
ject underneath. 

“ Jack, isn’t life a queer thing? ” she said presently. 
“ I am just beginning to understand it means that we 
can’t trust anyone, not even ourselves.” 

“ Don’t say that, Laline. You can always trust me.” 

“ Yes, I know.” And she sighed. “ Jack will you 
do something for me? Use every means you know 
of to find out for me where Major Lamont is. We have 
heard nothing of him since the 22nd of May. He’s got 
my sapphire ring—it came off in the dug-out when my 
hand got thin—and I want it back,” she added nervously. 

Jack looked at her in the dusk; it was nearly ten 
o’clock—summertime. He could see her face was 
anxious. It pained him. 

“ I have done so dear. I’ve asked everyone who 
knew him that I know, even a chap in the Embassy in 
Rome. No news of him anywhere.” 

“ He had a friend there, a Mrs. Hamilton. Perhaps 


m SIX DAYS 

we could hear through her? ” Laline whispered anx¬ 
iously. 

Jack had obtained the same information that Cele- 
tine had, and knew of David’s departure with the young 
widow from the Ritz. He had asked about her in his 
letter to his friend in Rome, and the reply, he feared, 
would further hurt Laline. That is why, as the subject 
had been dropped between them now for ten days, he 
had not mentioned it to her. 

“ You know something, Jack? ” 

“ Well—er—my friend said Mrs. Hamilton and 
her sister, Princess Pinoli, had gone yachting, and there 
were two young Americans on board. So I suppose 
one is David. They had gone on a cruise to the Greek 
Islands.” 

Rage filled Laline now. Here was she suffering 
anguish, and he—her husband—was amusing himself 
“ among the Greek Islands ”! 

She recalled every look she had observed on Mrs. 
Hamilton’s face. Of course she was frightfully in love 
with David—and how he had avoided giving any satis¬ 
factory answer when they had spoken of her in the 
dug-out! Laline’s pride was stung deeply at last, and 
the bitterest jealousy and anger held her. 

After this she seemed to pull herself together and 
became quite gay with the American friends when they 
went back into the house later on, but Jack did not like 
the look in her eyes. It was so bitter and hard. 

What had her relations been with his friend in the 
dug-out ? 

It is so easy to sit down and chronicle that time 
past or to write a sentence describing an agitated state 
of mind, but no one who has not experienced the agony 
that uncertainty and suspense brings, and doubts and 
fears about the faith of a loved one, can really appreciate 


SIX DAYS 233 

what Laline was now going through. The acid test 
indeed. 

A kind of outside numbness falls upon the jarred 
spirit at last, but the never-ceasing ache goes on. 

The days and nights now were one long torture, 
requiring all the will and nerve the poor girl possessed. 

Mrs. Greening rushed her up to London after a 
week at Chjannings, where her friend Molly greeted 
her with effusiveness, and introduced her to many new 
acquaintances, but nothing registered in Laline’s brain, 
and by the end of June a hideous terror had begun to 
haunt her dreams. They had been in England for a 
fortnight, and everything which could make life fair 
for her had been showered upon her. 

“ She appears wilted that way because of the dread¬ 
ful starvation picnic the poor darling has been through,” 
Mrs. Greening told Molly, who' she could see was dis¬ 
appointed about her old school friend’s appearance. 

“ It’s affected her mind. She looks to me as though 
she had seen a ghost,” Lady Fordbrooke averred, un¬ 
convinced. “ You should consult Sir James Hunter.” 

Laline felt that everyone was anxious about her, but 
when Mrs. Greening suggested that this specialist should 
be called in, she scoffed at the idea, laughed, and put 
on a fresh spurt of gaiety, but insisted upon returning 
to Paris. 

Celestine had been sent upon a long-promised holi¬ 
day to see her French relations when her mistress went 
to England. The faithful maid had been very loth 
to leave the lamb, but Laline was firm about it. She 
wanted to be alone, with no one who knew her anguish 
near to her. Now, however, Celestine would be waiting 
for her at the Ritz, and this thought brought a little 
comfort. 

It was a very hot night that first evening when they 


234 


SIX DAYS 


arrived, attended by Jack as usual, and everyone was 
dining in the garden. Their table was just outside the 
restaurant, and they had intended to go on to the 
theatre, so were dining early, when it was still quite 
light. Everyone was gay, and the whole scene was ani¬ 
mated as usual, the Grand Prix over, but many strangers 
lingering on. 

Suddenly by the entrance, further along in the gar¬ 
den, a tall man could be seen standing with his back 
to them. 

Laline had been acting her part to the best of her 
ability; she had been so bright that she had almost 
deceived Celestine when she dressed her. Almost, not 
quite. And now she had said something with a laugh, 
which, however, broke into a shuddering gasp when 
she caught sight of the tall figure and black hair: 

“ David/’ she whispered with whitening lips. 

Jack glanced around. 

“ By Jove, yes! I do believe it’s the old fox,” he 
exclaimed excitedly, and got up from his chair to go 
to him. 

Then the man turned round, and they saw that 
he was a stranger. 

The shock was too much for Laline. She could 
control herself no longer. She started from her seat 
holding her hand to her heart, and rapidly entered the 
open doors into the corridor, and rushed wildly up the 
staircase by the restaurant entrance. Their rooms were 
on the second floor above. 

Jack and Mrs, Greening looked at one another, at 
a loss what to do, and then they left the table and fol¬ 
lowed the fugitive up to the sitting-room. 

But when they reached it they found that the door 
was locked into Laline’s room beyond, and they could 
hear Celestine’s voice soothing her. 


SIX DAYS 


235 


“ I believe we had better leave her alone,” Jack said, 
great pain in his tones. “ The sight of that man has 
evidently brought all the horror of the dug-out back 
to her, poor, darling child.” 

“Celestine knows how to manage her; you are surely 
right, Jack. I’ll come back presently; we had best re¬ 
turn to our dinner.” 

So they went down again, but both were too pre¬ 
occupied to keep up more than a pretence at a conversa¬ 
tion. 

That her niece was evidently still interested in this 
hateful, unimportant, home-grown major, Mrs. Green¬ 
ing was now convinced! Where had her pride gone? 
Since he had run away from her the moment he could 
after being rescued he must have been showing the 
indifference to her down there underground that he 
had shown on the ship! She made up her mind that 
she would have a serious talk with her niece about the 
whole matter presently, and get at the truth of things. 
This sort of scene must never be repeated. She was 
angry as well as disturbed. For she knew Laline was 
a difficult subject to handle—and that she would be very 
unlikely to be influenced by her in any way. 

Jack was full of pain and forboding. He had been 
very uneasy ever since the rescue, but had bravely put 
the subject from his mind, and concentrated only upon 
devising how he could best soothe and divert Laline. 
He, too, felt the some kind of explanation might be 
the best thing to have now. 

And upstairs in the rose and white bed-room Laline 
was lying with her head buried in Celestine’s ample 
breast, sobbing. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


CONFESSION 

“Hush, hush! My lamb, my cherie!” Celestine 
said distractedly. “What has happened? Tell your 
Celi.” 

“ I thought—I saw Major Lamont in the garden, 
but it was not he,” Laline sobbed, brokenly. 

“ Few mans is worth a tear—and not le Major, who 
has behaved as no gentleman.” 

Celestine was indignant. This wretch to be able 
to make her darling mistress suffer so. 

Laline was shivering now, and lay back on the pillow 
with closed eyes for a second, and then she opened them 
and looked and looked at the maid, and there was some¬ 
thing significant in the agony which showed in their 
depths which almost caused Celestine’s heart to stop 
beating. 

“-It surely—cannot be? ” she whispered breath¬ 

lessly. “ Oh, quelle horreur! Oh! is Mademoiselle 
sure ? Oh! ma cherie, ma cherie! ” 

Then she held the trembling girl to her passionately, 
and they talked rapidly for some time; and at last 
she said: 

“ The brute, the murderer—the assassin! Now we 
must think—we must think.” 

Soon her clever French brain whispered ideas of 
consolation to her mistress, and finally she put her to 
bed and administered a sleeping draught, and in an 
hour Laline slept. 

Then Celestine folded her clothes while she pondered 

236 



SIX DAYS 


237 


deeply, and made short exclamations in her own langu¬ 
age, with incipient shrugs of the shoulders. 

“ Five days alone—mon Dieu, que voulezvous? So 
young, so handsome, both.” 

There were many alternatives, she decided, but to 
marry the Captain Lumley at once would be the most 
suitable and convenient one. Only Laline’s welfare 
concerned her. Jack, or a saint come to earth, would 
only have been considered as a means for her to use 
for her end. Neither’s feelings upon the matter would 
have weighed at all with Celestine. * 

She did not go to bed herself, but laid beside her 
lamb all that night on the sofa, and would not let Mrs. 
Greening, who came up later, disturb them. 

Mademoiselle was sleeping quietly, and would be 
perfectly well on the morrow, she said. No, no doctor 
was necessary. 

She had made up her mind—she would wait one 
week—and then she would act. Meanwhile, her adoree 
must be made to realise Captain Lumley’s goodness and 
the value of his protection. Laline had told her every¬ 
thing—with the priest dead, and no wedding ring, and 
the bridegroom absconded, who was to prove that a 
marriage had taken place? No one. And even if le 
major could be found and forced to come back, it would 
obviously be against his will, since he had gone off with 
another lady—and think then what misery and humilia¬ 
tion to her lamb; and if he refused—the scandal, the 
unpleasantness; and by that the door closed to the other 
and good plan. 

No, there was but one way out of all difficulties, and 
that was a speedy marriage with le Capitaine! 

After this decision Celestine slept. She was a prac¬ 
tical person. 

Once more Laline’s waking was a nightmare. She 


238 


SIX DAYS 


felt too ill to get up, she said, but Celestine coaxed her 
to let her make her beautiful, and allow Captain Lum- 
ley to come and see her in the sitting-room. She knew 
Mrs. Greening intended to go to Fontainebleau with 
friends for the day. She felt it wiser not to disclose 
her plan to her lamb yet—let her appreciate the lovely 
roses which Jack had just sent up to her, and be with 
him alone first. 

So when the aunt had safely departed, about twelve, 
Jack was telephoned for, and came up, to find a golden¬ 
haired, lily-white girl lying wrapped in a snowy crepe 
neglige and covered by an ermine rug, his roses in a 
great vase beside her. 

Celestine had attended to every detail to make a 
beautiful picture, Laline herself being numb and indif¬ 
ferent. All desire for life was over for her, and noth¬ 
ing more mattered, for, if all her faithful Celi had 
whispered to her should prove unavailing, she meant 
to end things in her own way and slip into shadowland. 

And what would this knowledge, which was so cruel 
now, have meant to her and David? if only- 

She remembered that during one of their tender 
whisperings they had spoken of such hopes. Oh! the 
cruel, cruel agony of everything! 

Jack’s kind, quite face paled when he entered the 
room and looked at her. There was a pathetic hopeless¬ 
ness about her expression, even though she smiled 
faintly, as he took and kissed her hand. She thanked 
him softly for the flowers. 

“ You are so kind and dear, Jack,” she whispered. 
Then the contrast of his love and David’s brutal deser¬ 
tion made the tears well up in her eyes. 

Jack was greatly moved. 

“ Baby, darling baby, what is it ? Oh! if you would 
only let me love and take care of you always,” he pleaded. 


SIX DAYS 


239 


“ Darling, once more will you not - marry me, and let 
me try and comfort you and make you happy again? ” 

The tears were trickling slowly down Laline’s white 
cheeks now; she buried her face in her hands. 

“ Jack, there is something—I—cannot-” 

Love seems to intensify intuition, as Jack gazed at 
her—in a flash he knew. 

For a moment he started to his feet, and then sat 
down again, and bent and kissed her hair. His voice 
was hoarse. 

“ Laline—my darling little love—I understand— 
everything now.” Then he bent closer and spoke in her 
ear. “ I love you more than anything on earth, and 
Fve always said love meant devotion. Now’s the time 
I can show it. Laline, say you will marry me—imme¬ 
diately.” 

She was utterly overcome at his goodness. What 
did it mean? Did he understand really, or was it only 
because he thought her so unhappy about David’s going ? 
She dropped her hands and gazed at him with mourn¬ 
ful, despairing eyes, and she saw that his distinguished, 
gentle face was working with controlled emotion, and 
that his blue eyes were full of tears; but there was com¬ 
prehension in them. 

“ Jack? 

“ I tell you I understand,” he said quickly. “ David 
—” and then he broke off, and took both her hands 
and drew her to him. 

“You need not tell me anything—I know. Just 
marry me at once, and I’ll make you forget everything. 

Laline was overcome. Here was love, indeed, the 
noblest love she could conceive of. 

“ Oh, Jack, you glorious friend,” she cried brokenly. 
“ If it’s really true that you understand and want me 


240 


SIX DAYS 


still to be your wife—because even so, that would ma 
you happy, I—I-—” but she could not finish the sentenc 

“ You will marry me, darling? ” 

She made a faint gesture of assent, and fell into pas¬ 
sionate weeping. Her mind, torn with the question, 
Should she tell Jack about the priest and the wedding 

He was kissing her little left hand now, only glad¬ 
ness in his spirit. 

What did he care for anything more, since he would 
have her always to protect and worship ? 

“ Jack, leave me now, dear—I want to think out 
something.” 

He rose, always obedient to her wishes. 

“ I will go as long as it is nothing which can cause 
you to change your mind. Remember, darling, I never 
want to hear a single thing about that awful time. I 
want to obliterate it entirely from both our memories. 
Never at any future hour will I allude to it or take the 
situation as anything but an absolutely normal one. You 
can count upon me for that darling girl. David shall 
be a dead memory between us, and your child shall be 
my child. All I ask is that you don’t tell me a thing. 
You are all that matters to me. What has passed does 
not concern us.” 

“ I promise Jack,” she said, faintly, and he kissed 
her hair again, and went from the room. And when 
he had gone some strange peace fell upon Lelaine. Here 
was strength and love indeed, and, above all, under¬ 
standing. 

David had broken his sacred vow, and deserted and 
betrayed her—the priest and the ceremony meant noth¬ 
ing to him. No law could prove that there ever had 
been a marriage. 

Jack had come to her rescue, and would give her 


SIX DAYS 


Ml 


back honour and protection, and she could make him 
happy. She would give her li fe in gratitude. 

No, she would not tell him anything further. The 
die was cast, and with a firm movement she removed 
her little diamond hoop ring back to the right hand 
again. Celestine came in just then, and Laline turned 
and looked at her. 

“I am going to marry Captain Lumley, Celi,” she 
said quietly, “ quite soon—perhaps in a fortnight.” 

Celestine almost cried in her relief and satisfaction. 

“ He knows everything,” Laline went on. “ I am 
not deceiving him, and I will try to make up to him 
for his goodness.” 

“ Quel Gentilhomme! ” was all Celestine could blurt 
out, “Quel Gentilhomme !” 

At that moment, far away to the South-East, David 
was sitting in a waiting attitude by a crag, looking over 
a blue sea. His black eyes gleamed from under a 
Turkish fez, and he stroked his short, black beard. The 
mission was nearly finished, and had been very success¬ 
ful. He had had some near shaves and some moments 
of great danger and excitement, but some luck always 
protected him. He would be able to get back to Paris 
about the 22nd of July, if all went well this time— 
exactly two months since he had quitted it. 

How passionately and tenderly he had thought of 
Laline in all these weeks! His honey! Where was she, 
what was she doing? Could it be possible that—Oh, 
how glorious! Jack, of course, would be taking the 
greatest care of her. He could trust old Jack. And 
then a sudden realization of the altruistic nobleness of 
his friend’s character came to him. Well, he was 
splendid, far better than himself. David could never 
have borne to see his love given to another man. But 

16 


242 SIX DAYS 

each one must express his own nature, and his expressed 
action—not devotion. 

What would her first love-letteri to him be like, that 
he would find in Rome ? How he longed for it! 

He would be free now to dispose of his time as he 
pleased. His service would be over. 

They would have to be married again civilly, and 
then where would she want him to take her? Some¬ 
where in the country in England, perhaps. They would 
motor, and he would show her all sorts of old places that 
he knew about. 

How would she be looking? Perfectly beautiful, of 
course, and she would have got quite over the effects of 
hunger by now, just as he had done; he had never felt 
better in his life. What was that noise? A stealthy 
movement beyond the crag behind him. He got into a 
defensive position, and took out his revolver. Two 
villainous-looking Greeks peered over the top; then they 
came at him, their knives brandished. 

Flash—flash!—and one fell, tripping over the crag 
into the sea, far below; the other closed with him, 
pinning his arms. They struggled and struggled, the 
Greek trying to push his adversary to the edge of the 
precipice. He was a powerful man, a giant almost, but 
just when he seemed to be succeeding, David got his 
arm free, and fired his revolver straight at the brute’s 
head. 

Then he bent over the dead body, a look of disgust 
mingled with satisfaction on his face, and with care he 
searched the inner pockets of' the jacket the bandit had 
worn, and discovered a thin leather case. 

So this was the culmination of all his toil—he had 
secured the evidence. 

Now he would but have to get back to civilisation 
with his life—and then for Paris, and Love! 


SIX DAYS 


243 


And, later that day, when Laline had received the 
congratulations of her aunt and the Whitmores, and 
was out in the Bois de Boulogne, driving in a peaceful 
green allee with her devoted fiance—David, her husband 
and lover, was fleeing before a, crowd of horsemen for 
his life, over uneven ground of rough grass and crags 
and pines. 

But Laline’s eyes, full of love and trust and tender¬ 
ness, seemed to call him forward into safety, and he 
rode like the wind. 


When Laline was alone that night she went out on 
to the balcony. A moon was rising. The night was 
warm and still. She could hear the band from the 
restaurant, which had not finished yet, playing “ The 
Love Nest. ” What memories it brought back to her! 
David had whistled that as he splashed through the 
water to discover the way to the upper world. He had 
often whistled it at his work, too. 

A quiver of passionate love for him swept over her. 
How was it possible that he could have altered so ? He 
had been hers—her very own—every thought only for 
her and what he could do for her. 

And now, perhaps, he was whistling “The Love 
Nest ” to Mrs. Hamilton—among the Greek Islands on 
a yacht! And the same moon was looking down upon 
them all. 

Did he ever reflect upon what awful suffering he 
must be bringing upon her—she who had been his wife 
and his love ? 

She seemed to hear his voice saying “ Honey, ” his 
favorite term of endearment for her. Was he now 
calling Mrs. Hamilton “ Honey ” ? 

Then burning, passionate anger and hate filled her 



244 


SIX DAYS 


heart, which had so often swelled with tenderest love for 
him; and she swung back into her room, clenching her 
hands, for jealousy is more bitter than death, and 
crueller than the grave. 

Jack had made it appear to Mrs. Greening that he 
must have an immediate wedding. Why should they 
wait ? Had he not been asking Laline to marry him for 
more than half a year? And many of their friends had 
looked upon the engagement as an imminent certainty. 
There, with all the shops in Paris to choose from, a 
trousseau was quite possible to get in a fortnight or 
three weeks—and could they not be married about the 
twentieth of July in the old chapel at Channings Priory? 

Mrs. Greening was delighted at this suggestion. 
The old place would make a wonderful background for 
a wedding. It would be all so chic, and make such 
interesting reading for all their friends at home. They 
must have a real English wedding, too, with the train of 
bridesmaids and little pages, and she would delight to 
entertain as large a party as the house would hold! 

Laline and Jack would have preferred to have had 
everything as quiet as possible, but Mrs. Greening was 
determined to have her way. And the sooner the cere¬ 
mony could take place the better she would be pleased, 
as in her secret heart she feared that Laline might 
change her mind! 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


THE RETURN 

The days of warm July went by very rapidly. 
Laline had asked Jack to go back to England and 
arrange all his affairs, so as to be quite ready to take her 
away after the wedding to some quiet! place in Switzer¬ 
land, where they would spend the rest of the summer 
and autumn. She felt that she would want to be far 
from scenes which could remind her of anything she 
had ever known before. 

She resolutely shut her eyes now to the future, 
which she felt vaguely must eventually be happy, since 
Jack was so good and kind and devoted to her—and she 
sternly banished thoughts of the past when they pre¬ 
sented themselves. She was in all ways growing into 
a stronger character. David’s influence was insidious— 
unconsciously she was putting into practice that self- 
restraint and discipline which he had often talked to her 
about in their long hours, and which she knew were 
what he thought essential to the making of a personality 
which he could respect. Celestine was the only creature 
now who saw any signs of her grieving. 

“ She is but twenty-two years, and le Capitaine is 
so considerate, sorrow will pass, ” this wise philosopher 
reflected! 

The trousseau was chosen, and the days were full of 
feverish trying on of clothes and hats, and the evenings 
passed in feasting with American friends, of whom 
shoals appeared to be in Paris. So that by the time bed 
came each night, Laline was too tired toi think, and fell 
into dreamless slumbers. But underneath her subcon- 

245 


£46 


SIX DAYS 


sciousness was uneasy, haunted always by a doubt. 
Could there possibly be any mistake ? Could it possibly 
be that she was being unjust to David? 

But nothing happened to influence her one way or 
another about this, and the sixteenth of the month came, 
and they went over to England to prepare for the 
wedding on the twenty-second. 

Whenever thoughts of the little life in the future 
came to her they caused her fresh anguish, and she 
thrust them aside fiercely. She would not let herself 
admit them at all as the days went on. She stamped out 
weakness and made herself practical. 

Her face was changing, it had become hard, and 
while there was sorrow there was also a cynical look in 
her eyes. 

Jack’s relations had welcomed her warmly, even the 
crusty old cousin from whom hei would inherit the title 
some day. As far as her life as Jack’s wife went there 
seemed to be no clouds ahead. 

Mrs. Greening had had the great pleasure of collect¬ 
ing the bridesmaids—all children, they had decided, 
because Molly had two small daughters of five and six— 
and “ The Ladies Margaret and Ursula Brooklyn ” 
would sound so well in the descriptions in the papers, 
beside the minute Earl of three, Molly’s son and heir, as 
one of the pages. Jack’s titled relatives provided the 
other four girls and little boy, and thus six aristocratic 
little maidens under seven and two pages under five 
would follow Laline from the great hall at Channings 
through the cloisters to the chapel, the boys carrying her 
cloth of silver train. The bridesmaids were to wear 
petal frocks, the pale colours of sweet peas, and the pages 
would be in satin suits to match. 

All these details had heen of the greatest happiness 
to arrange for Mrs. Greening. Laline had assented to 


SIX DAYS 


247 


everything with a wan smile which had a sardonic curb 
in it, though, and once or twice she had laughed aloud 
bitterly, alone in her room, at the grim mockery of it all. 

“ I need not wear orange blossoms, auntie, need I ? ” 
she said. “ I hate them—silly emblems of bygone 
days—I am going to have no wreath and no flowers, just 
the diamond bandeau the old Earl has given me—to 
keep the veil on—and the string of Jack’s pearls.” 

“ Why, you’ll set a new fashion, Laline,” her aunt 
exclaimed. “ Modern girls have no sentiment like they 
used to have.” 

“ Perhaps they have had the romance burnt out of 
them,” her niece sighed. “And what is it, anyway? 
Just a false glamour thrown over cruel facts.” 

Mrs. Greening was horrified. 

Jack had arrived at Channings to spend the Sunday. 
He would leave again before the wedding on the 
Tuesday, and stay at Dover in’the most orthodox way, 
but this Sabbath, evening he and Laline were out in the 
rosegarden once more, looking on to the park. 

Both were very silent. Jack sensed that his beloved 
was in a strange mood. 

“Jack!” she burst out at last, “it is perfectly 
ghastly, how can we go through with it all? ” 

“ Laline! ” 

“ I mean the fuss of the wedding, and the brides¬ 
maids, and the dress, and the veil, and the whole fraud 
of it. I feel a terrible hypocrite, dear.” Her voice 
was trembling with pent-up emotion. Jack was deeply 
pained. 

“ You must not think of things like that, darling,” 
he said. “ We owe certain obligations to our station in 
life, and I thought you promised me that the past was 
completely dead, and that we should never allude to it 
again. I’m the person who has to say whether things 


SIX DAYS 


£48 

are a fraud or no—and I say they are not. How can I 
convince you that my love for you is greater than any 
considerations of what conventional symbols may 
mean ? It is you Laline, I want to cherish and protect, 
and if your aunt and my people want to dress up the 
ceremony that gives you legally to me, why should you 
and I mind?” 

“ Jack, you are the most wonderful person in the 
world. How can I ever be good enough to you? ” 

He talked then so gently. He understood much that 
she was feeling, not all, though, for he knew nothing of 
the* marriage she had gone through with David. That 
fact Laline still thought it better to keep to herself. But 
her mind was growing to be greatly troubled about it. 
What if there was something very spiritually wrong in 
the breaking of her vows, even if David had broken his? 

Did it really mean something more than the law ? 

She was a Protestant, and the priest had used the 
Catholic formula. Therefore it could not have been a 
marriage ceremony really. Then she tried to reason 
with herself, using sophistry, because she was so very 
unhappy, and fate seemed to have chased her into 
a corner. 

Now, out in the rose-garden with Jack, who was 
soothing and quieting her, things did not seem so 
desperate; but later, when she looked from her open 
window on to the peaceful scene and heard a nightingale 
sing, a great cry went up from her heart. 

“ God knows I only belong to David, and it will be a 
sin to swear new vows to Jack.” 

She did not sleep all night, tormented by her 
remorseful terrors, but in the morning she had not the 
courage to face the scenes and, the scandal which would 
happen if she were to break off the engagement. 


Six DAYS 


249 

Custom and convention seemed to be sapping her will, 
and she could not face the horror of the future all alone. 

But this last day before the wedding was a torture 
of uncertainty and spiritual heart-burnings, blotting out 
for the time the anguish of her broken love. 


David reached a vantage point after his frantic 
gallop and, turning quickly, wheeled to the left and dis¬ 
appeared behind a jutting angle of rock, and his pur¬ 
suers thundered past him and were soon out of sight. 
Then he encouraged his tired arab gently and cantered 
on, taking a path at right angles, and was soon in safety 
in the friendly chief’s stronghold. 

That had been a near shave! Nearer than when he 
had disposed of the two Greeks! But fighting, and 
adventure were a delight to him really, and he rolled 
himself in his blanket and fell asleep in the young moon¬ 
light with a sense of exaltation in his heart. And in a 
few days more he would be in civilisation again, and 
then for Rome—and Laline’s letter! 

How glorious! 

When he did reach the Grand Hotel in the Eternal 
City his pulses were bounding with expectations and 
joy. What would she say—his honey! Ah! some¬ 
thing divine, of course, since, he knew that every throb 
of her heart beat love for him, and every thought of her 
spirit was filled with tenderness. 

And, then, when they did meet! How they would 
rush into each other’s arms! How they would talk and 
tell each other everything that had happened since they 
parted, and then they would never, never part again. 

Above all things David was a practical person, not 
given to nervous questionings. He had made his 
decision that morning in Amiens knowing his duty was 
to “ carry the message to Garcia,” he had taken all pre- 



250 


SIX DAYS 


cautions to ensure Laline’s understanding of his me 
tives, and not a disturbing doubt had ever entered his 
head since. When he had thought of her—which had 
been in every moment when his whole attention was not 
claimed by his work—it had always been with the 
fondest worship and trust, and he had made plans for 
their future and devised ways in which he could show 
her his devotion. 

He almost bounded into the hall of the Grand 
Hotel—such was his eagerness. 

There were no letters for Major Lamont! 

The shock was great. 

No letters at all! He had hardly expected any ex¬ 
cept from l!aline, unless Mr. Randolph should have sent 
him fresh orders, since no one else knew that he would 
be in Rome. 

Fergusson, of course, was waiting for him, but he 
had somehow missed him at the station, presuming he 
had gone to meet him. 

He would go on up to his room, which he found 
had been engaged for him, and see if there was any¬ 
thing there, and if not he would telephone to the 
Embassy. 

But he had told Laline the Grand Hotel in his letter, 
not the Embassy at all. 

His heart had sunk now, he felt extremely disturbed, 
all the buoyant joyousness had fled. 

No, there was nothing in his room. He went to 
the telephone. 

It took some time to get on, as usual, and he waited 
the few minutes in growing anxiety and distress. 

At last he got the communication: No letters for 
Major Lamont at the Embassy. 

He could easily catch the express for Paris that 


SIX DAYS 


£51 


night, it was only five o’clock, and he would be at the 
Gate de Lyon at six o’clock on the morning of the 
twenty-second of July—and when he> had rushed to the 
Embassy to deliver the precious documents into Mr. 
Randolph’s hands, he would then be free to find Laline 
and discover what was the reason of her silence. 

Should he telegraph to her at the Ritz ? There would 
be no time for him to receive an answer before he 
started. No, that would be useless, better to get to her 
as fast as he could. 

If she had not written there was some reason for 
her silence. What reason ? Had the exposure to cold 
and hunger caused her to be too ill to write? 

This thought was a perfect agony. But it could not 
be that, because he had received assurances from 
Fergusson before he left Amiens that she was going on 
all right. Starvation was not a disease, and the effects 
of it wore off quickly with care and proper food, and 
Laline would have everything possible done for her. 
Was she dead ? Had some awful complication occurred ? 
Oh, God! he could not face this. His anxiety now 
became almost unbearable. Had she never received 
his letter? 

But of course she had. Lost letters only occurred 
in melodramas, not in real life. The chambermaid 
would have no earthly reason not to deliver it, and even 
aunts and faithful maids would not deliberately sup¬ 
press correspondence in these days, although they might 
not have handed the letter to Laline immediately if it 
had fallen into their hands, Laline being asleep when the 
chambermaid went in. 

Fergusson entered the room just then, and they 
greeted one another. The servant was nettled at not 
meeting his master at the train. 


SIX DAYS 

David demanded eagerly if anything had come fo* 
him. 

“ Nothing,” Fergusson said. 

Then he asked what news had been in the papers 
lately. Had he heard anything of the party they had 
left at Amiens? 

But Fergusson had been away “ getting a bit of 
sport ” with an American-Italian friend of his and had 
not seen any papers for a matter of three weeks. There 
was nothing about them before that, except the “ New 
York Herald ” had said that Miss Lester and her aunt 
had gone to England from the Ritz Hotel 

So Laline was not dead, or even ill, then. What 
could it be ? 

Had she ceased to love him ? 

But this was perfectly ridiculous; of course, she had 
not. She loved him as he loved her, utterly and for 
eternity. 

No. The probable thing, considering the strike that 
had been on and the disorganization of traffic in 
Italy, was that her letter to him had been lost. But she 
would know he would return to her on the instant he 
could; so he must not let himself speculate further, he 
must just wait patiently until he reached Paris and could 
make all investigations. 

And so at last he got into the train. 


CHAPTER XXX, 


THE WEDDING DAY 

It was raining on the morning of the twenty-second 
of July when Laline awoke. But the sun came out 
afterwards before her breakfast was brought up. She 
was feeling ill and unutterably depressed. Celestine 
had been so troubled about her on the night before that 
she had given her a sleeping draught. So the poor child 
had slept soundly. That made the awakening none the 
less heavy. 

How was she going to get through the day—her 
wedding day? 

She could not prevent her thoughts from going to 
that other wedding of hers—there in the dug-out. With 
what different feelings she had contemplated making 
the vows then, with death staring them in the face, and 
the probability of only a few hours, or days at best, 
with her beloved one. 

She seemed to experience all the thrills of exaltation 
over again, and to see David’s face, filled with passion¬ 
ate love, bending over her. 

Surely the present was some horrible dream, and 
she would awake and find that he had returned to 
save her! 

And what would the future be, if she went through 
with the ghastly mockery? Jack would go on being 
devoted—she could be sure of that—and she would 
have an honourable name and a place in the world. 
And there would be no scandal. 

She was not deceiving Jack or trying to thrust a 

253 


254 


SIX DAYS 


cheat upon him. He was marrying her with his eyes 
open to everything but the ceremony of the marriage, 
and was that really a ceremony? Here the everlasting 
question assailed her again—was she doing something 
very wrong? 

If David had simply disappeared, and there had been 
no trace of him after she had left Amiens, she would 
have waited and hoped, and even trusted him. But it 
was the going off with Mrs. Hamilton which made the 
thing so terrible—so impossible to make excuses for— 
so heartless—so brutal. 

He had deliberately deserted her, evidently to fulfil 
a plan he must have made before he ever went to the 
battlefields. This proved that his whole conduct to her 
and been false and a lie. Now she began to reason that 
he could never have loved her. Only—she reflected 
bitterly—men could love two women at the same time. 

He had always treated her with want of respect 
from the very beginning. From the kiss on the Olym¬ 
pic to the kiss in the car—always insolent until they 
were married. Here she clenched her hands in anger 
and pain. No—she had a right to consider the cere¬ 
mony as naught, since he had shown her the way. But 
what if she met him some day in the future when she 
was Jack’s wife? 

Celestine came in then with her breakfast, and 
understood by the look she saw on her mistress’s face 
that it would be unwise to leave her alone again until 
she was ready to go to the chapel. 

Molly, Lady Fordbrooke, and her children had 
arrived the evening before. The house was crammed 
with guests, filled to its full capacity. There was an 
air of bustle and gaiety. Through the open window 
Laline could hear the birls singing and the sound of 


SIX DAYS 


255 


the gardeners as they went in and out of the chapel to 
put the finishing touches to the flowers. 

Celestine said something joyous and cheerful. A 
final present from Jack lay upon the breakfast tray. 

Everyone seemed to be rejoicing, except the bride. 

“Celi—the whole thing is impossible ! ” Laline 
gasped. “ I can’t go through with it! ” 

Then the maid became furious. 

This was quite too bad, and not like her own Made¬ 
moiselle, or even a lady—to make a scandal and cause 
unhappiness to so great a gentilhomme as le Capitaine 
Lumley; one who had loved her always and was now 
ready to give her the greatest honour in the world. 
How could Mademoiselle even contemplate being so 
selfish as to break his heart? If he, knowing every¬ 
thing, was yet willing, and even more than eager, to 
make Mademoiselle his wife, whose business was it to 
create difficulties ? 

“ That is just it, Celi. He does not know every¬ 
thing. He does not know about the priest having 
performed a ceremony,” and Laline’s voice was despair¬ 
ing again. 

This made Celestine uncomfortable. She could not 
bear to remember that about the priest, but, whether or 
no, there was no use in bringing it up now. One must 
be practical, and as le Major would certainly deny any 
wedding, what would be the good of Mademoiselle 
remembering it? 

It was the Bon Dieu who sent le Capitaine Jack to 
relieve Mademoiselle from all her difficulties and fears, 
and instead of having all these useless thoughts now 
Mademoiselle should be grateful. 

Then Molly, in a dressing gown, knocked at the 
door and came in, seating herself on the bed. 

“ You do look woe-begone, Laline,” she exclaimed. 


256 


SIX DAYS 


“What is the matter, dearest? You ought to 
happiest girl in the world.” 

“ Of course I am.” 

“ Then cheer up for goodness sake, or you will 
not look well in that perfect gown. Silver and gold; 
how right you were not to have plain white, or just 
silver, as everyone has now.” 

“ Yes, I thought gold would be more suitable to 
me,” Laline answered, and wondered if any of the 
ironical emotion she was feeling had crept into her voice. 

Somehow, Molly there, talking about clothes, 
seemed to make things more everyday and human and 
not so awful to contemplate. 

She was four years older than Laline, and had 
always mothered her. She had married when she was 
eighteen, on her first visit to Europe, but she had come 
back to her old home every two years since, so the 
friendship had never been broken. She was secretly 
thinking now that it was a good thing her chum was 
marrying so well, because really she was going off in 
looks too sadly. 

“ Do open your present honey,” she said, catching 
sight of the box on the tray; and as she said the word 
“ honey ” she saw Laline wince suddenly, as if in pain. 

Again she asked wonderingly: 

“ What is it, dear? ” 

“ Eve got neuralgia,” Laline answered. 

Molly loved giving remedies, and was off at once 
to her room to get some perfectly wonderful stuff which 
cured everything; and while she was away Celestine 
whispered firmly to her mistress: 

“ Mademoiselle must pull herself together. Such 
weakness is unworthy,” and this stung Laline’s pride 
and made the pink come into her cheeks. 

She opened the parcel. 


SIX DAYS 


257 

It had just “ With Jack’s fond love ” on a card, and 
there she found a heart made of one large ruby, a 
quaint, unusual jewel of great price. 

Dear Jack! She would wear it presently. The 
children came back with their mother and brought her 
their little gifts; and then Mrs. Greening arrived, and 
the chatter was incessant until past twelve o’clock. 

There was no time for any more thinking or griev¬ 
ing. Laline must get up and dress and eat her luncheon 
and have her hair done and her veil put on. 

The ceremony was to be at half-past two exactly. 
And a Bishop uncle of Jack’s would give the blessing. 

David arrived at the Gare de Lyon about half-past 
six o’clock in the morning. It was raining in Paris, too. 
He had slept very little both nights in the train, and 
as he neared the station his anxiety and impatience 
seemed to have reached an unbearable pitch. He got 
into a taxi as quickly as he could and drove straight 
to the American Embassy, half an hour’s drive away. 
Even in this disturbed moment of his life his duty 
came first with him. 

The Ambassador was not up yet, but would put on 
a dressing-gown and come to him immediately, he was 
told, and he waited in the well-remembered sitting-room 
for ten or fifteen minutes. Then Mr. Randolph 
came in. 

“ Welcome back, Lamont,” he cried, gladly, shaking 
hands warmly. “ You really have come up to time 
splendidly. Now tell me all about it, boy.” 

So David gave up the precious documents, and the 
two sat down, and for more than an hour and a-half he 
made his report, and gave a detailed account of things, 
while the Ambassador listened attentively, asking many 
questions and taking down some notes. 

17 


258 


SIX DAYS 


“You had some narrow escapes,” he said at last. 
“ Well, it is a glorious thing to be young and to be 
able to see life, and you have earned the respect and 
grateful thanks of the Ministers who entrusted you 
with this important matter. You will not go unre¬ 
warded, Lamont, I can tell you.” 

“ I was not thinking about reward, sir. I am proud 
to serve my country,” and David lifted his head. Then 
he thought he might now, perhaps, speak of his 
own affairs. ; So he turned the conversation to 
Mrs. Randolph, and asked how she was, and from 
that remarked: 

“ You remember Mrs. Greening and her niece, Miss 
Lester, don’t you, sir? Have you heard any news of 
them lately ? I seem to have been away for an eternity, 
and, of course, have no news of any of my friends,” 

His Excellency was looking down at the notes and 
not paying much attention for the moment. He an¬ 
swered a little absently. 

“ Oh! The girl who was buried in the dug-out 
with you. Let me see. Yes; isn’t she going to be mar¬ 
ried soon to an Englishman? I think Mrs. Randolph 
said something about it only yesterday. If I remem¬ 
ber rightly, Lumley was the name. By the way, where 
did you say you believed the troop went on to, after you 
doubled back and gave them the slip? ” 

David caught his breath for a second, and then 
instantly controlled himself, telling the Ambassador 
of the place and the rest of the information he required. 
Then, when he had completely mastered all show of 
emotion, he asked: 

“ Do you happen to know where Mrs. Greening 
and her niece are now, sir. Captain Lumley is a great 
friend of mine.” 

“ I know that they went to England, but I do not 


SIX DAYS 259 

know where. They were here dining about three 
weeks ago.” 

JDavid’s one desire now was to get away to be able 
to ^ink. The frightful shock he had received had 
made him very pale. The Ambassador noticed it. 

“ I expect you are pretty tired, Lamont, after all 
your exertions, and are wanting a bath and breakfast. 
Well, I will not keep you any longer now. I can’t tell 
you how I appreciate your splendid service. I’ll tele¬ 
phone you in a day or two when I have heard from 
Washington. You’ll be at the Ritz as usual, I suppose ?” 

David said he would be, and so they shook hands 
again cordially, and he made his way down the stairs, 
and as he passed the large buhl clock in the hall it 
chimed a quarter past nine. 

He felt almost as though he were staggering when 
he got outside; the taxi was still waiting. 

“To the Ritz,” he said to the driver quite fiercely. 

What could this mean? Laline going to marry 
Jack Lumley—his friend Jack? 

But how could she marry anyone? She was mar¬ 
ried already to him; she was his wife, his very own. 

He pressed his hands to his head. Was he mad 
or dreaming? 

Then he remembered that the priest w"as dead, and 
that there was no proof whatsoever of their wedding. 

If Laline had forgotten him and their love suffi¬ 
ciently to be willing to marry Jack, it must mean that 
she intended to deny the ceremony. There would be 
only his word against hers. 

What frightful thing had happened in the two 
months to change his honey? Whose influence had 
accomplished this? There would be a letter for him 
at the Ritz most probably. Certainly from Jack, if not 
from Laline. People’s characters could not completely 


£60 


SIX DAYS 


alter from one month to another, and Jack’s character 
was above proof. He would never marry Laline or in 
any way betray a trust to him, if he knew the circum¬ 
stances. Thus it followed that Laline must have utterly 
deceived him. 

Of course there was no letter for him at the Ritz. 

He went to his room stunned. Then he plunged 
into a bath and tried to think. 

When he came out of the bath room his breakfast 
had arrived, and with it the papers. 

He had come to the conclusion that he would tele¬ 
graph to Jack at his club. 

He opened the Continental “ Daily Mail,” and there 
saw a paragraph which sent the blood coursing furi¬ 
ously in his veins. 

It was to the effect that the marriage of Captain 
Jack Lumley, cousin of the Earl of Channings, and 
Miss Laline Lester, the beautiful niece of Mrs. Green¬ 
ing, of Washington, would take place in the chapel at 
Channings Priory, Dover, at half-past two o’clock 
to-day—the 22 nd of July! Then followed the descrip¬ 
tion of the bridesmaids and the guests who would 
be there. 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

AT THE ALTAR 

For one moment David’s hands seemed nerveless, 
and he almost dropped the paper. Then his strength 
of purpose reasserted itself. He was not of a character 
to accept fate resignedly. He would fight for what he 
considered to be truly his own to the last breath of life. 

He pulled himself together and used all his wits. 

The wedding was to be at half-past two o’clock. 
It was now ten. He had four hours and a half; and 
he was in Paris, and the ceremony would be twenty 
miles inland from Dover. 

Telegrams would be of no use. If they had gone as 
far as this, what attention would they pay to telegrams ? 
—even if he could be certain one would reach them. 
Things were not yet at pre-War efficiency, and a wire 
was quite capable of taking four hours, and people did 
not open wires on wedding days. They would receive 
dozens of congratulations. It was no use chancing 
that. He would send one, anyway, but the imperative 
necessity was that he should get there himself in time. 

He controlled all his nerves, and wrote out the 
telegram to Jack, addressing it “ Channings Priory, 
Dover.” Then he called Fergusson, who had gone into 
the bathroom when his master came out, and was 
arranging his things. 

“ I have to be in England, Fergusson, before a 
quarter past two—telegraph to the Lord Warden Hotel 
at Dover for a car to meet me on the cliffs at the landing 
place, for aeroplanes, while I telephone to the Military 

261 


£6£ 


SIX DAYS 


Attache at the Embassy to find out the quickest way 
I can get a machine. 

His voice was so quiet Fergusson realised there was 
something very grave on foot. He knew his master 
well. He also was a person who could “ carry a 
message to Garcia.” He did not stop to say, “ Would 
not some other conveyance do?” or make any other 
suggestions; he merely remarked: “Very good, sir,” 
and immediately proceeded to carry out his master’s 
orders, going into the hall to execute them. 

David felt just as when he had seen the two Greeks 
peering at him over the crag, all his forces on tension, 
only with an added hideous coldness round his heart 
as well. But his voice was firm when he talked to the 
Military Attache, and received all the information 
he required. 

And after nearly half an hour’s telephoning he had 
arranged that he should start from Buc at half- 
past eleven. 

Fergusson returned now, having dispatched his 
wire, which he had worded so that the urgency of the 
order for a car might be understood. 

Then David, who had been hastily shaving and 
dressing between his telephone calls, was ready to start. 

The only relic of Laline he possessed was her great 
sapphire ring, which had got caught in the lining of 
his coat pocket, and had only been found when Fer¬ 
gusson had been drying the coat late that first night at 
Amiens, and which he had handed to his master on 
their journey to Paris. 

“If there is a ring used to-day, it shall be this 
ring,” David said, with clenched teeth. Then he went 
round to the office in the Rue des Petite Champs and 
sent his telegram himself to Jack, and a few minutes 


SIX DAYS 


263 


after eleven he was tearing out to Rue in a Ritz car, 
with Fergusson beside him. 

Laline finished the first part of her dressing, and 
waited in a rose silk peignoir for the coiffeur to come 
and do her hair. 

Molly had returned to the room, and was keeping 
up her spirits. The astute creature guessed that her 
school friend, for some perfectly incomprehensible 
reason, was not looking forward to her wedding with 
the joy she certainly should be experiencing. 

Molly guessed the reason must be sentimental. 
What perfect nonsense! Here was Laline going to 
marry into what she now termed her rank in life, and 
her bridegroom was one of the nicest, dearest, most 
perfect gentlemen anyone could find, who adored her, 
and would let her do exactly what she pleased after¬ 
wards. And yet the tiresome girl was looking as glum 
as an owl, and she could see was almost on the edge 
of tears! 

Molly wished she knew mho it was, because of 
course there was somebody —a married man probably— 
they were really growing so appalling with girls since 
the War. No honour anywhere ! 

She discoursed upon the delights of Laline’s future 
position while they waited for the coiffeur. Then 
she said: 

“ There is one thing, Laline—of course you must 
try to have a son at once. It does give you much 
greater prestige with the family when you are the 
mother of the heir.” 

Laline fortunately at that moment was looking 
down at her nails, which she was polishing, so her 
quick-witted friend did not see the look in her eyes. 


264 


SIX DAYS 


The pupils suddenly dilated—and she bit her lip sharply. 
But, “ Of course,” was all she said. 

“You will find you have to know these English 
people, dear. They are awfully simple when you do, 
and reliable, but there are just a few things we have 
to learn, I may tell you privately. For one thing, say 
less than you mean, never more/’ 

“ You are happy here, Molly? ” 

“ Happier than I could possibly tell you, Laline— 
and so will you be.” 

Celestine announced the coiffeur now, and Molly 
left to finish her own dressing. 

Jack, at the Lord Warden Hotel in Dover, with his 
best man, was dressing, too. 

He was in a quiet state of mind. There was no 
anxiety in his heart. He knew everything he felt, and 
so could start his life with Laline as his wife unshad¬ 
owed by possible surprises. Love for him meant more 
than family, or name, or race. 

Laline’s child would be very dear to him, and per¬ 
haps some day he would have one of his own. 

The family of Lumley had endured for such hun¬ 
dreds of years, and in these modern days none of those 
things mattered. There would perhaps not be any 
peerage or titles existing when he came into it all. 
And in any case Laline and her happiness and welfare 
were all which really mattered to him. 

They were going to motor to Folkestone after the 
reception, and catch the evening boat to Boulogne, and 
gradually get on down to Switzerland to a secluded 
spot he knew of. 

He tied his light grey tie firmly, his old Eton hand 
had not lost its cunning, and his valet handed him his 
immaculate morning coat and indicated that his tall 


SIX DAYS 


265 


hat was in its case and his overcoat ready with the 
fresh gloves in the pocket. 

Then Jack went down and ate a simple luncheon 
with his best man in the restaurant. 

The little bridesmaids, some with their hair in silk 
rags still, to keep the curls perfect, ate their luncheon 
up in what had been the old schoolroom at Channings. 
The second minute page was crying, because the Lady 
% Betty Hurstmanseau had put her finger in his eye. 
And she was a year older than his lordship and ought 
to have known better! It was a very unmannerly thing 
to do, the haughty nannie of his lordship told her lady¬ 
ship’s nursery governess. But his tears were soon 
dried, and, amidst much talking and excitement among 
the governess, maids, and nurses, the eight children 
were taken back to their respective rooms to put on the 
lovely little petal frocks which would make the little 
girls look like a bunch of sweet peas. 

Mrs. Greening had never been so happy in her life! 
She was entertaining numbers of people of importance, 
and her niece Laline was making a really brilliant mar¬ 
riage. For, if Jack would only be an Earl some day— 
the title was a much, much older one than that of 
Molly’s Marquis—a mere mushroom growth of not 
more than a hundred years! 

Mrs. Greening was behaving with the most perfect 
and serene dignity, even if she was just a trifle patron¬ 
ising to Mrs. Whitmore, who, with the Judge, had 
come over to England on purpose, and motored up from 
Folkestone, where they were staying. 

Celestine was beginning to feel terrible twinges. 
Long ago, before she had gone to America, she had 
been a Catholic, and even if religion had lapsed a good 
deal in the last ten years, somewhere in the back of 
her mind she was superstitious about it. 


SIX DAYS 


What if she had been influencing her lamb to com¬ 
mit a great sin? But, then, what will you? The 
situation must be saved. It was extremely ill-bred, and 
pas bon ton, to make scandals. 

There was nothing for it—nothing for it—but she 
wished it could have been otherwise. 

Judge Whitmore was to give the bride away, being 
so old a friend and no male relation being present, and 
Mrs. Whitmore delighted in Laline’s good fortune. 
She was a kindly, homely soul. She had always known 
from the very moment she got on to the Olympic and 
saw them together—Laline and Jack—that they were 
made for one another. As for Louise Greening, she 
was just being up stage and foolish giving herself such 
airs. Had they not climbed each other’s backyard 
fences and played together in Oklahoma when they 
were children, before Louise married that rich Mrs. 
Lester’s brother? 

And Laline, as the time went on and she was left 
alone with the coiffeur gone and her hair finished to 
eat her chicken and drink a glass of milk, could do 
nothing but repeat a prayer, a prayer to ask for for¬ 
giveness, if she was going to commit a sin, and for 
strength to be able to make Jack happy. 

For herself life was over. Henceforth her years 
must be devoted to trying to repay Jack’s noble devotion. 

Perhaps her soul would rise out of the slough of 
despond it was now in, and to do her duty properly, 
and to fulfil to the highest what her new position 
would require of her, might bring her some peace. 
It w&s too late now, she could not go back or change 
her mind. 

They had left her alone for the half-hour to eat 
her simple lunch, but now Molly burst in. She was 


SIX DAYS 


267 


going to help Celestine to clothe her in the marvellous 
gold and silver brocade bridal dress and fix her veil to 
flow beneath the old Earl’s diamond bandeau. 

Celestine was unusually quiet, and seemed once 
or twice to be brushing tears from her eyes, but Laline 
now was quite calm. And so at last she was dressed, 
and a more beautiful bride never would walk up to 
an altar. 

The entirely plain mediaeval-looking robe showed 
off her slender figure to perfection—its long sleeves 
coming over her transparent little hands. Round her 
bare neck, on a long, slender diamond chain, hung 
Jack’s ruby heart. And her plain tulle veil fell from the 
diamond bandeau over the cloth of silver train lined 
with gold which hung from her shoulders. 

Laline herself was pale as a white rose, and her 
eyes were cast down, the curly, golden-brown lashes 
resting on blue shadows. 

A mystic bride from some fifteenth-century glass 
church-window come to life, she appeared, not a real 
modern young woman. 

“ You are just too divine! ” Molly said. 

The little bridesmaids and pages were all collected 
now in the great hall, with anxious attendants giving 
them last instructions. 

Mrs. Greening was waiting, bouquet in hand, and 
the guests who had come by train and motor were 
beginning to drift into the chapel where the clergy¬ 
man had already gone. 

The villagers, a selected number of whom, old 
tenants of the family, had been invited to see the pro¬ 
cession come through the cloisters, were collected in 
excited groups outside. 

The sun shone, the birds sang, and the great clock 


268 SIX DAYS 

had already several minutes ago chimed quarter 
past two. 

Laline was to carry an ivory-bound prayer-book, 
not the usual bouquet, and at the last moment it could 
not be found. 

Molly ;had unwrapped it from its packing and laid 
it down somewhere—but where? She and Celestine 
began to lose their heads about it. The bride stood in 
her oak-panelled bedroom like a statue, perfectly still. 

Was she frozen to stone? This was not Laline— 
the Laline who had married her love in the face of the 
death in an underground excavation, clothed in a blue 
silk jersey frock, just over two months before—this 
white-faced, stately, golden-robed bride. 

She clasped her hands together for a second to feel 
if she was real—the same impulse which used to make 
her touch the bristles on David’s chin when hunger and 
privation were beginning to make Things shadowy 
to her. 

Yes; she was real—just as he had been. But why 
did she seem to be seeing his eyes all the time looking 
at her out of the dark panelling—eyes so full of re¬ 
proach and sorrow; not fierce and passionate as David’s 
eyes so often were? 

Oh! Would Molly and Celestine never find the 
Prayer Book? Better to start and get the frightful 
sacrilege over. She could not bear this waiting. She 
would begin to scream. 

The distracted maid discovered it at last, hidden 
under a black lace scarf which Mrs. Greening had 
dropped on a table the last time she had bustled into 
the room. 

Celestine took this for an omen, and nearly let the 
book fall as she handed it to her mistress. 


BIX DAYS 


269 


Hidden under a black cloud, the blessing of God! 
But what was to be done? 

“ Run on to the minstrels’ gallery and peep and see 
if they’ve all gone on but the bridesmaids, and pages— 
and Judge Whitmore,” Molly said, and Celestine went. 

Jack arrived at the side-door of the chapel with 
his best man, a brother officer in the Guards battalion 
in which they had both served. 

The ring was all safe. George knew his duties. 

It was five minutes to the half-hour; it was always 
well for the bridegroom to be in time. 

They stayed by the vestry door beyond the huge 
banks of flowers. 

The clergymen had moved into place. The organ 
was playing soft music, the guests were seated, and 
now the bride’s aunt and the house-party and all Jack’s 
relations came in and took their seats, and there was 
that air of expectancy and that feeling of excitement 
which there always is at weddings. 

Jack’s heart began to beat, and the best man coughed 
and muttered: 

“ Buck up, old chap.” 

Then half-past two chimed from the clock tower. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

AGAINST TIME 

David arrived in plenty of time at Buc, but there 
was nearly half an hour’s delay before the aeroplane 
could start. He fumed inwardly, but the wind seemed 
all right, and it could not take two hours to get over 
the Channel surely and land on the cliffs at Dover, and 
if the motor was there waiting they could do the twenty 
miles in twenty minutes and he would be able to prevent 
the ceremony. 

Each time his thoughts reached this point a wild 
anger shook him. How had they dared to contemplate 
committing such an action as to get married? And 
supposing he did not reach there before half-past two 
o’clock and the ceremony was finished. In the eyes of 
the law Laline would be Jack’s wife, not his, since the 
priest was dead and there were no witnesses. 

The time he had to wait for the aeroplane to start 
was the worst he had yet gone through in his life. 

But at last he was high up in the sky, among the 
clouds, which were clearing away, and an hour later 
he could see the blue sea beneath him. 

His thoughts now began to speculate more reason¬ 
ably as to what could have happened. 

It was unlikely that Laline had utterly ceased to love 
him because he had gone away. His letter to her had 
explained everything quite satisfactorily, and surely she 
could trust him. Could she somehow have heard that 
Mrs. Hamilton had been in the train, and she had been 
confoundedly jealous? Laline had always shown signs 
of being jealous of the Ambassador’s niece, but that 

270 


SIX DAYS 


m 


would be too ridiculous since she knew perfectly well 
that he adored her, and the other woman was a mere 
acquaintance. He had, perhaps, been stupid ever to 
tease her. He remembered now he had not given her 
any satisfactory answer on the subject in the dug-out 
when they both were in playful mood. But even so, 
his having chanced to be in the train with the woman 
could not be enough cause to make Laline want to ruin 
all their future happiness in this awful manner. 

Could family pressure have been put upon her? 
He did not know Mrs. Greening well, and perhaps she 
had more authority over his darling girl than she ap¬ 
peared to have. 

But Jack’s part! That was the most incomprehen¬ 
sible of all, since he had told Laline to tell Jack every¬ 
thing as the one safe person to confide in. 

David sifted each possible aspect of the affair as he 
crossed the Channel, and before they reached the cliffs 
he had come to the conclusion which was near the truth. 

If by some diabolical turn of fate Laline had never 
received his letter, and imagined he had deserted her, 
and someone had seen him leave the Ritz with Mrs. 
Hamilton and gossipped to her about it, jealousy and 
believing that he was a scoundrel might have driven 
her to take Jack out of pique. 

Pique? No, that was not a sufficiently strong mo¬ 
tive after a love like theirs. Laline had shown that her 
character was of pure gold. No matter how piqued 
she might have felt she would have allowed some time 
to pass and given him a chance to come back and explain. 

Could it be—was it that she had to marry someone, 
and believing she was deliberately abandoned by him 
she had accepted Jack? “Oh, good God!” David 
gasped aloud, and quite startled Fergusson. 

Yes—this must be the explanation; it was the only 




SIX DAYS 


one which could account for things. Jack, of course, 
would have come up to the scratch like the splendid 
friend he always was unless Laline had deceived him, 
which was unlikely. 

From now onwards David’s thoughts became a 
nightmare of anxiety. 

He must reach Channings Priory before half-past 
two o’clock. 

A rather ramshackle-looking old car was waiting 
when at last they landed safely, and giving Fergusson 
instructions to make his way to the Lord Warden in 
Dover and stay there until he received further instruc¬ 
tions David got into it and started. The driver ex¬ 
plained that there was a tremendous rush of tourists 
just now, and that on such short notice this was the 
only car available. 

“ But she’ll get you to the wedding in time, Sir, all 
right. I suppose it’s the wedding at the Priory you’re 
going to? ” 

David nodded, but remained silent. His heart was 
beating in his throat, for his watch said that it was 
quarter to two o’clock, and this rotten car could never 
make more than twenty miles an hour. He felt that 
he would like to get out and push it as they went on. 

It would appear sometimes that anxious thoughts 
delay events, for just as they came at last to the pad- 
docks, and could see the chimneys of the house in the 
distance, with groans and creakings the old motor came 
to a standstill. 

A wild passion of rage and despair shook David. 

What was to be done? How could he reach the 
chapel; it was now five minutes to the half hour. 

He gazed around frantically. If he ran with all 
his strength he could not cover the distance, and climb 
the probable fences, in the time. Then a gentle whinney 


SIX DAYS 


273 


caught his ear, and he saw the beautiful eyes of a thor¬ 
oughbred gazing at him over the top of a tall iron 
gate, which he could see was padlocked. 

There were other horses grazing further in. Here 
was the desperate last chance. He did not hesitate an 
instant. Fortunately he knew all about horses and their 
ways. He climbed the gate very quietly, not to frighten 
the creature, and then, luck aiding him, he caught its 
stable halter and leaped on to its bare back, and was 
off like a nomad. 

“ Steady, girl, steady,” he kept murmuring, and 
guided the animal towards where the house seemed 
to be. 

The hedge which divided the paddocks from the park 
was not a very high one. The clock in the tower at that 
moment chimed half-past two. This maddened David, 
and with a wild cry, he put the mare at the hedge, while 
he bent and clung to its mane. The beautiful creature 
answered to his knee movements, and took the hedge at 
a flying leap, but stumbled a little a few paces afterwards, 
and David nearly lost his seat, but, righting himself, 
galloped forward. He must be, must be, in time. From 
that distance he could not see it, but there was still the 
sunken haw haw to bar his passage ahead. 

Celestine returned from the minstrels' gallery to say 
that everyone had gone on but Judge Whitmore and the 
bridesmaids and pages. So Laline and Molly left the 
room, and, followed by the maid carrying the train, 
they wept down the great stairs, and to the hall. 

Molly kissed Laline, who was now as white as death. 

“ Why, you are too beautiful, darling. You must 
keep up your courage,” she whispered. 

Then there was all the arranging of the procession 
while the clock struck half-past two. Molly had the 

18 



£74 


SIX DAYS 


quality of organisation, and soon marshalled everyone 
into place—the little girls, so much more full of confi¬ 
dence and self-importance than the two tiny boys. 

“ I’ve been bridesmaid twice this winter, so I know.” 
said the Lady Betty Hurstmanseau with an air of 
command. 

“ Now you must remember what’s expected of your 
lordship,” firmly admonished the nurse of Molly’s 
minute son and heir. “ You’ve got to hold the train 
nicely, dearie—there, like that.” 

The procession started then, Laline leaning on Judge 
Whitmore’s arm. 

There was a murmur of admiration from the on¬ 
lookers as it swept the cloisters; and, indeed, a more 
lovely bride had never been seen. 

“ Silver and gold and white,” as one of the 
farmers’ wives whispered romantically; “ For her face 
is as white as her veil, and her hair is as gold as her 
dress. Isn’t she perfect? ” 

“Won’t Captain Jack be happy? ” another sighed, 
ecstatically. 

The chapel door was reached, and the train disap¬ 
peared within, while the organ played sympathetically. 
Jack moved forward to meet his bride, and Molly, pas¬ 
sing the bridesmaids, reached her place beside Mrs. 
Greening in the front pew. 

The music ceased, and after an instant’s silence the 
clergyman began the opening words of the service. 

Laline now was hardly conscious of anything. She 
heard vaguely the sound of the solemn words, but did 
not take in the full meaning, only they seemed something 
terrible and menacing. She knew that she must stand 
up straight presently and repeat what she was told. 
But, oh, if only the beam of blue light which was coming 
from a southern stained glass window high up could 


SIX DAYS 275 

enter her heart and take away her life, how much better 
that would be. 

God was angry with her; she would be cursed, not 
blessed. 

Wild thoughts came. Should she scream, and say 
she could not go through with it. 

David—David? Her darling real husband where 
was he ? 

But what was that noise of galloping horse’s hoofs 
on the stones of the cloisters, and a confused murmur 
of voices outside, heard above the quiet tones of the 
officiating priest? 

This was unseemly, so he spake more loudly.. 

“ Therefore, if any man can show any just cause 
why they may not lawfully be joined together let him 
now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


“i FORBID THIS MARRIAGE ” 

David galloped forward at breakneck pace, straight 
for the chapel, which he could now see was in the gar¬ 
den. And as he came nearer he could see the bridal 
procession leave the house. 

The.mare refused the haw-haw, and, wheeling, very 
nearly threw her rider; but despair lends strength and 
skill, and David put her at it again in another place, 
just opposite where he could perceive the opening to the 
cloisters from the rose garden. And this time the 
gallant beast landed him safely. 

The sound of the horse’s hoofs was not heard on 
the soft turf, nor did; anyone realise a wild horseman 
was advancing. The tenants’ backs were turned from 
the park, and all eyes were fixed on the bride. It was 
only when the barebacked rider, without hat now, 
and clad in a grey flannel suit, entered the cloisters and 
clattered along the flagstones at the side of the red 
carpet that the crowd were startled violently and some of 
the women shrieked. 

David was like young Lochinvar—nothing stopped 
him, and he flung himself off the mare so rapidly that 
no one could hinder him at the very door of the chapel, 
which he entered with great strides. 

The animal when left alone reared, and a gardener 
caught the halter and led it, all covered with foam, away 
to the stable yard. 

Then the onlookers surged forward to get as near 
the door as possible, to witness what all felt would be 
a drama taking place. 

It was when the words: 

£76 


SIX DAYS 


m 


“ Or else hereafter for ever hold his peace ” were 
being said, that David dashed up the aisle, passing the 
frightened little bridesmaids, his eyes flashing and his 
face pale. 

“ I forbid this marriage to go on/’ he said in a 
firm, strong voice, as he reached the chancel steps. “ I 
know cause and just impediment why it should not 
take place.” 

The guests in the seats were craning their heads with 
excitement, and the smallest page began to cry. All 
became confusion. But Laline knew nothing of it, for 
when she heard David’s voice, which seemed to come 
to her through space, she had given a cry and fallen 
forward unconscious, and been clasped in Jack’s fond 
arms. 

A scene like this is almost impossible to describe, 
because everything seems to be happening at once. 

The nurses and governesses, in the back pews, had 
the good sense at once to go to each of their charges, 
and the little children were rapidly led away back to the 
house. 

Mrs. Greening and Molly rushed to Laline’s side, 
and while Molly rubbed the nerveless white hand which 
hung limp Mrs. Greening turned on David, who stood 
there towering above her, like a bronze statue, so still 
he was. 

“ How dare you make this disturbance, Major La- 
mont? ” the infuriated aunt almost screamed. 

The Bishop who was to have delivered the blessing 
now stepped forward. 

“ Let all the congregation leave this house of God,” 
he said, raising his old thin hand, “ and let this man 
who has broken in upon us say his say.” 

The guests made way for Jack now to carry Laline 
down the aisle, and so on through the cloisters to the hall. 


278 


SIX DAYS 


The head gardener, with the good taste of an old 
servant, had marshalled the tenants to a distance off, 
and they were dispersing; so thie way was clear, and 
Jack never stopped until he had laid the unconscious 
girl on the bed in her own room, Molly following him. 

Celestine had gone back there from the hall; at the 
last moment her courage had failed her, she could not 
witness the ceremony, which she now felt to be a crime. 

She had heard the disturbance and noise of the 
horse’s hoofs, and was holding her hand to her heart 
when Jack, carrying his precious burden, entered the 
room. 

“ Mon adoree—my lamb! ” she cried despairingly. 
“ What has happened? ” and went at once to her loved 
mistress’s side. 

“ Get the salts,” Molly commanded firmly. She did 
not lose her head. 

“ Is she dead? ” asked Jack in a frozen voice. It 
was the first word he had spoken. 

They cared for the poor child tenderly and in a few 
minutes she opened her eyes. Then Jack left them and 
went back to the chapel. 

David and the clergyman were just coming out of 
the door when Jack met them, and the two who had 
been friends glared at one another face to face. 

“ You must answer to me now, you scoundrel,” 
Jack said sternly. 

But the Bishop intervened. “ Let there be no angry 
words before you have heard each other,” he implored. 

So Jack and David walked back again into the house, 
and to the library, and when they had entered Jack shut 
the door. 

“ Laline is my wife,” David said, in a grave, quiet 
voice. “ The priest married us in the dug-out before 
he died.” 


SIX DAYS 


279 


“ You are lying,” Jack hurled at him. “ If it had 
been so, she would have told me.” 

David stepped back a pace, and put his hand to 
his head. j 

“ There was no proof of our marriage—only our 
two words—and Laline may have thought I would deny 
it on my side.” 

“ Oh, my God! ” cried Jack, in anguish, light break¬ 
ing in upon him. “ Go on.” 

“ I wrote her a letter at Amiens that morning, ex¬ 
plaining that I had to go immediately for two months 
on service for our country, and could give no account 
of myself until the end of that time, and I asked her 
to trust me, and to tell no one but you of the wedding, 
because it was of the utmost importance that no talk 
should centre round my name, until my mission was 
accomplished. You surely understand, knowing my 
work in the war. I conclude she never received that 
letter. I gave it to the chambermaid to hand to her 
personally as soon as she should be awake. I had not 
one minute to lose. I had to be at the Embassy at 
twelve o'clock at the end of my six days’ leave. It was 
pretty ghastly having to go, but there was nothing for 
it, and I knew she’d trust me when she understood— 
Jack. Is it that she did not get the letter at all?—” 

All the life seemed to die out of Jack’s face as he 
listened. He looked up, though, now, with his honest 
blue eyes. 

“ No, she never received it. She thought you had 
deliberately deserted her, and gone to Rome with another 
woman. The evidence we heard at the Ritz was abso¬ 
lutely uncontrovertible. How do you account for that ? ” 
And his tone hardened, and again he glared fiercely at 
his old friend. 

David did not become angry. The whole thing was 


280 


SIX DAYS 


growing clear to him now, and great sorrow for the 
pain his comrade would have to suffer was in his heart. 

“ I did not know anything about the confounded 
woman’s going until the Ambassador asked me to take 
care of here. She being his niece, because the Italian 
railway strike was on. I had only seen her once before 
in my life, and, of course, left her as soon as we reached 
Rome.” 

Jack sank into a chair and supported his head in 
his hands. 

“ It is all too awful,” he said. “If you knew the 
cruel unhappiness Laline has been through—and then 
■—at last—it seemed that you had deliberately betrayed 
and abandoned her, and so I—” 

David held out his hand. 

“ Jack, you splendid chap,” he cried brokenly, “ you 
asked her to marry you to save the situation—was not 
that it? I understand.” 

David was so deeply moved his voice was hoarse 
with emotion. Jack looked up now. 

“ I asked her to marry me because I love and hon¬ 
our her more than anyone on earth. I have been ask¬ 
ing her continually ever since we first met—and now, 
above all, when I knew that she needed protection and 
care.” 

A reverence filled David. This was love, indeed. 
He could not have done that. 

“ You always said love was devotion, Jack, old man, 
and I said it was action. I could not have made such 
a sacrifice—■ and, because of love for a woman, given 
my name to another man’s child. You are far beyond 
me. I—I—” but his voice broke, and he could not go on. 
Jack straightened himself. 

“ The only thing we have to consider now is Laline’s 
happiness,” he said. 


SIX DAYS 281 

David walked to the window and spoke with his 
back turned. 

“ Jack you are far more worthy of her than I am. 
Has she grown to know it and love you ? Because if so, 
I’ll go away now. There is no proof of our wedding. 
She knew that, and of course, I can see; thinking I 
would deny it, she never even told you. We can say this 
fuss has all been a mistake. I did not tell the parsons 
anything—only that I must speak to you alone.”' Here 
he paused. Jack did not speak, so he went on. 

“ Jack, old man, tell me the truth, and if it is that 
she loves you, I’ll crush everything out of my heart and 
go at once.” 

For one awful moment Jack was tempted. He knew 
David would accept his word, and not even ask for 
further proof. But the temptation passed, and he rose 
to his feet and came over to his old friend. 

“ I could not lie like that, David, even if I thought 
that now, having seen you again, Laline would go 
through with it, I could not be such a mean sneak. I 
know she only cares for you, and never has cared 
for me.” 

They wrung each other’s hands silently, and then 
Jack said: 

“ Come.” 

Up in the oak-panelled bedroom Laline was lying on 
the sofa. Celestine had taken off her wedding robe, and 
wrapped her in a white dressing-gown. 

When she had recovered consciousness her one 
thought was to get Molly to leave her alone with 
her maid. Celestine guessed this and had tactfully 
manoeuvred Lady Fordbrook from the room. 

Then Laline held out her arms to her Celi. 

“ Tell me, tell me, it was really he? she whispered 
wildly. “ Oh, why does he not come to me now ? ” At 


282 


SIX DAYS 


that moment the door opened and Jack came first, and 
David followed him up to the sofa. 

Laline sprang to her feet. 

“ Laline/’ Jack said, his brave voice very deep, “ It's 
all a mistake about David’s going on purpose. He’ll 
tell you everything, dear.” 

And then as the lovers, with glad cries rushed into 
each other’s arms, Jack beckoned Celestine, and they 
both turned and left them alone in the room. 


Joy is the greatest reviver there is in the world, 
and Laline’s pale face was glowing and radiant as she 
nestled in David’s fond embrace half an hour later, when 
the whole thing was explained. 

“ But I shall always hate Mrs. Hamilton,” she 
whispered, with true female rancour. “ It is she and 
not you, David, who made me suffer so.” 

Every little point was gone into, and then they had 
their perfectly divine knowledge to talk over in whispers, 
and make plans for the future. But that is too sacred 
to be put into words. 

To avoid all scandal and chattering they would say 
nothing of the ceremony in the dug-out, because it 
might cast a reflection upon Laline having consented to 
become Jack’s wife. They would just be married over 
again, as soon as a licence could be procured and all the 
civil rites attended to, and then they would go right 
away in blessed joy together never to part again. 

“ Aunty will be perfectly furious that I am not some 
day going to be a countess, and everyone will talk their 
heads off. But do we care? ” Laline laughed. 

“ I care for nothing but you, honey,” David said, 
passionately. 

“And you understand and have forgiven me for 



SIX DAYS 283 

deciding to marry Jack? ” and she rubbed her soft cheek 
against his dark face in her old way. 

“ I understand everything,” and he held her to him. 
“ The only shadow upon our happiness, my darling, is 
the thought of that dear old chap.” 

“ Isn’t he the most splendid true gentleman on earth, 
David? When I think of him I could cry.” 

“ Honey, I’ll try to love you with the same marvel¬ 
lous devotion that old Jack does, but my nature is dif¬ 
ferent. I am always rather wild.” 

“ I should think you are! ” and Laline laughed softly 
ini pride. “ Imagine coming in an aeroplane, and riding 
one of the old Earl’s thoroughbreds bare-backed just to 
stop me from becoming someone else’s! Oh! David, 
I just adore you! That’s all! ” 


And so presently they were married properly in 
London, and Judge Whitmore again gave the bride 
away. It was the quietest possible wedding, from 
Molly’s house in Grosvenor-square. Mrs. Greening 
was too incensed to be present. If her niece liked to 
make such a fool of herself she washed her hands of the 
whole affair. 

But the lovers recked not, they went off down to a 
Devonshire Manor House to stay for the summer, in 
delicious, happy peace. 

“ Honey—my own honey! ” David whispered that 
night as they stood on the terrace in the moonlight, 
overlooking the sea. “ I never believed that I could 
ever really love any woman, and now you are just the 
heart and soul and body of me! ” 

And away upon the deck of a yacht that was steam¬ 
ing down Channel, Jack was gazing at the swirling 
green waters which curled away from the bows. The 



284 


- SIX DAYS 


girl he worshipped was happy now. That was the 
glorious thing, and Some day, when the stupid outside 
pain had lessened a bit, he would come back and see her 
again, and perhaps in the future the child which he had 
been going to call his would give him its little affection 
and they would be pals. 

And because of this thought, which was always with 
him, his sad heart grew comforted. 

But the lovers in the Devonshire garden were beyond 
thinking of anything but their own two selves, and their 
unutterable bliss. Everything else for them had melted 
into nothingness. 

For they had found the only thing which is really 
worth finding in this old world: True Love. 

FINIS. 










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